


and the credits roll,

by HazyDayzz



Series: just enjoy the show [2]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Kokichi Wants His Shuichi Back, M/M, Minor Violence, Not Beta Read, Oops, Other Pre-Game Characters, Pre-Game Momota Kaito, Pre-Game Oma Kokichi, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Regular Saihara Shuichi, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 11:52:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16953507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazyDayzz/pseuds/HazyDayzz
Summary: “Danganronpa is a virtual reality killing game simulator. But, just because the wounds and deaths aren’t real doesn’t mean you can’t ‘die’. See, a feature that had been implemented since V0 is the fake memories, talents, and personalities that allow the characters to come to life before the audience’s very eyes. There’s a special little agreement one must sign before the game that gives the ‘Player’ the option to keep whatever junk Team Danganronpa stuffs into their head should they win. It’s an optional prize, but who wouldn’t want to keep their own, very special, Super High School Level talent?!”A single checkbox makes Shuichi Saihara’s world spin.A single check mark makes Kokichi Ouma’s world break.~~~~~Or, the killing game ends, but not everyone is back where they started.





	1. Chapter 1

Wide yellow eyes snapped open only to squeeze shut. Blinding fluorescent light flooded Shuichi’s senses and sent dull, throbbing pains behind his eyes. The sensation was similar to one of a flashback light, except in that case, the “painful” part dissipated as soon as the memory was complete. No, this was a bit different. It was the same horrible feeling of staring into a screen for too long without a break. The feeling seemed all too familiar to Shuichi, though he wasn’t quite sure why. He was never the type to stay up all night on any device for any reason, instead he opted to read books or simply sleep when night had arrived.

Suffice it to say, Shuichi shouldn’t be used to this feeling and yet he was. As if moving on muscle memory alone, his eyes blinked a few times quickly in succession to get used to the light. He could almost feel heavy bags weighing under his eyes and a layer of exhaustion fall over him. His hands moved to try and wipe his squeezed eyes but a sore pain shot through his arms and he quickly halted the motion. Before a moment of panic could set in, Shuichi forced himself to look around at where he was.

Through burning light, Shuichi could make out that he was in a container of sorts. His body was lying on top of a hard, almost soft surface, akin to a mat one might find attached to a standard gym wall. His vision refused to focus on the details, so Shuichi was forced to make due with guessing for the most part. He could make out the blurry outlines of wires running neatly along his feet, connecting to where? He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light, his temporarily skewed eyesight, a lapse in memory, or a combination of all three, but Shuichi swore that he was wearing a different outfit.

It looked to be almost a suit. Maybe a school uniform? But Shuichi couldn't quite trust his eyes use yet so he let it go. His mind was foggy and he would’ve gave anything to clear it. He wanted to be able to think and deduce. An itch in his brain was begging him to find out what was going on, sniff out the clues and come to a concise conclusion. However, that seemed to be impossible at the moment, as Shuichi couldn’t move, couldn’t see, and was too tired to even think.

Shadows danced in his vision, and a more aware, more awake Shuichi would probably recognize those shadows as people. The shadows blocked out some of the bright light and appeared to be conversing with each other. He heard their voices but couldn’t make out any of the words.

“... _eems_ to _be_ _fine_. _That’s_ _to_ _be_ _expecte_ ….”

“... _it_ _until_ _he’s_ _a_ _bit_ _more_ _lucid_. _Remind_ _him_ _to_ _keep_ _it_ _ea_ ….”

“... _nsfered_ _to_ _a_ _hospital_ _room_ _to_ _rest_. _He’ll_ _be_ _better_ _in_ _ab_ ….”

“... _d_ _still_ _hasn’t_ _left_ _yet_. _Hopefully_ _he’ll_ _shut_ _up_ _once_ _this_ _on_ ….”

Shuichi’s head started to throb in line with the pain in his eyes. He was just so tired. A shadowy hand stuck out from the light and was offered for him to grab. He tried to reach out to it but, the effort of moving himself was more bothersome than it was worth. Someone like Momota or Harukawa would’ve been able to take it, even in this state. How pathetic he was. All that night time training and he was still too weak to grab the offered hand. The person at the other end of the hand didn’t try grabbing him or yanking him up onto his feet. They seemed to know that they had to treat him delicately in this state.

The hand was withdrawn and Shuichi heard the shadows exchange a few more words but he couldn’t be bothered to pick up on them. For some reason he was _soooo_ tired and his sore body didn’t want to help. Groaning, the former detective let his heavy eyelids drop and submitted to sleep.

  
  


This time, when his eyes cracked open, he was drenched in dark.

His headache seemed to have died down and his eyes felt like they had received the best rest in weeks. He shifted in the bed(?) that he was lying in only to find the soreness of his body still remained, albeit a bit less. Shuichi reached to rub his eyes and possibly sit up, though the motion made him lightly grunt against his will. His mind buzzed, clearer than it was previously. His thoughts spiraled, trying to figure out where he was now. He quickly deduced that he was in a hospital, from the lay out of the room.

Although it was dark, a few small beams of light shone through a covered window that lay to Shuichi’s left. He could make out a flat screen TV pinned against the wall across from his bed and a small table sat underneath it. A remote and vase of red flowers was placed on the table along with what appeared to be a note and a black and white box. The mere combination of colors in one area made Shuichi’s stomach twist, but he felt a sense of morbid curiosity to go over and investigate it.

The door to his room was closed. Whether it was locked, Shuichi wasn’t sure. He was alone for the time, so he assumed he had some freedom to utilize what was in this room. He forced himself to slide into an upright position before making the slow transition to standing up. Every movement hurt in an annoying dull pain, but Shuichi forced himself to endure it. He looked down at himself and saw that, yes, he was wearing a school uniform of sorts. A bit baffled that someone had changed his outfit, Shuichi shrugged it off and approached the table and it’s contents.

He opted to open the note first, which was placed into a small white envelope. He squinted so he could focus on the words written on the back, it really was addressed to him. The Detective ripped the envelope open, though to be more accurate, he carefully undid the binding top and gingerly took the note out. He moved it towards the window so he could read the neat, handwritten calligraphy.

_Dear Shuichi Saihara,_

_Congratulations on winning Danganronpa Season 53!_

_As per agreement, you will receive your prizes shortly._

_In addition to winning one million yen, you will also receive certain celebrity benefits, curtsy of Team Danganronpa, which have been listed in your audition contract, as well as the ability to keep your Super High School Level talent._

_Extra information regarding your prizes should be contacted via this number: xxx-xxx-xxxx_

_Thank you for playing!_

_Team Danganronpa + Mastermind Tsumugi Shirogane._

Shuichi’s insides tangled up into knots as he remembered what had occurred previously. He hadn’t forgotten the last trial but the full realization and weight of the situation suddenly crashed down onto him like a speeding freight train. _The outside world…Danganronpa…Everything being fiction…._ That’s right, it had all been a game that everyone had signed up for. They all signed up to die on the show that they loved. Shuichi’s heart ached at the thought of everyone dying on a shitty TV show. If he really did win such a game, Shuichi didn’t want to keep any of the prizes.

His hands moved over to the black and white box. It was fairly large, in all honesty. An average sized puppy could probably fit inside, though Shuichi had a sinking feeling that he knew what was inside. He slide the lid off and peered inside. Despite knowing and _expecting_ the plush to be there, Shuichi flinched and dropped the stuffed animal onto the floor. Right… TV show. Merch.

After a moment of being frozen in place with his heart racing, Shuichi calmed himself down enough where he poked the Monokuma with his foot. It was smaller than the real thing and Shuichi couldn’t have been more thankful. He hesitantly picked it up before examining it over. There was a tag sticking out of it’s back stating how to treat and wash it should it get dirty and a few other facts about it’s fabric. A store tag was also still attached, complete with _Team Danganronpa’s_ logo and the emblem for this season, V3. Shuichi shoved it back into the box it came out of and disposed of it into the trash can that was in the room.

He took the TV remote off the table and flicked the device on. If he was in the outside world, then he wanted to see if what Tsumugi had said was the truth. Was the outside world truly so peaceful that they would worship a killing game? Somehow he didn’t believe it, but then again, he was skeptical of most of what she said but his belief was starting to grow along with the evidence around him.

The TV flickered. It started off on what seemed to be a sports news esque show speculating about the conclusion of _Danganronpa’s_ recent season. Quick scenes of the game, shot from Kiibo’s point of view flashed on screen as the spokesperson gave a recap about what occurred throughout the season and the audience’s overall reaction to it. A flurry of emotions ranching from hot anger to a pangs of guilt and a mess of sadness raged war in his head. He scrambled for the remote, in an effort to turn it off or to change the channel.

Shuichi succeeded at one of those two things and a different channel blessed the screen. This time, it was an actual news channel. He watched for a while as nothing too eventful happened on screen. Talks about politics and small stories but nothing too worrisome or interesting. Shuichi bit his lip.

Shirogane’s words were starting to seem like truth.

The Detective was taken by surprize as fluorescent lights flickered on above him. He stumbled back into the hospital bed and whipped his head around to see who’d just entered the room. A young male nurse walked into the room with a clipboard. Shuichi watched as their expression changed from worried to relieved and a small smile entered their lips.

“Oh good, you’re up. I understand how hard the first few hours can be,” the nurse said, casually, as if this happened a lot. Shuichi watched as he set down the clipboard and filed through some of the documents in his possession. Shuichi wanted nothing more than to snoop through them, but his current state wouldn't allow him. So he sat idly by as the nurse organized his things before sitting down on a standard backless swivel chair and rolling over to the Detective.

“Alright, Saihara-san. We just have to go through a few standard questions before I can sign you off for your release.” The nurse unclipped a large stack of paper. “I must say, congratulations on winning! I have a copy of your initial audition contract here with me, as per standard. Here.”

Shuichi delicately received the thick binding of papers, eyes fixated on his name and the glaring V3 logo. He flipped through the document, eyes tracing and absorbing the blurry letters. His vision still had trouble focusing at this time, but he could clearly make out his name, signed in his handwriting. He rolled it up, tight, in his grip.

The nurse smiled eager to start, apparently excited to be in a room with a _Danganronpa_ winner. “Tell me when you’re ready to begin. I just have to give you a standard check up.” Shuichi swallowed the non existent saliva in his mouth and nodded.

The examination took roughly about ten minutes. It wasn’t an in-depth check up, just to make sure that everything was normal. Shuichi was told that the soreness was a standard part of participating in _Danganronpa_ and that everything was fine. After the nurse was done, he asked for Shuichi to sign something. “Just an agreement so you can receive your prizes.” Shuichi was hesitant, as game shows usually cheated the winners out of receiving everything they had “won”, but, seeing as he didn’t care for anything _Danganronpa_ was going to give him anyway, he sighed.

“Great! Okay! I’m here to answer any questions should you need it, but you seem ready to go. Don’t worry about your body or eyesight, that should return to normal fairly soon, if not in the next few hours,” the nurse gently laughed as he gathered his belongings.

“A-actually,” Shuichi started, the first he’d said save for answering the yes or no questions that the nurse had asked previously. “W-what happened to t-the others?” The nurse looked at him, a confused smile plastered on his face. He watched as realization dawned on the nurse.

“Oh! The other winners. They’re fine, probably going through the same thing at the moment. You’ll probably catch each other in a bit.” He said with a satisfying ending hum. Shuichi nodded, and was about to get up to leave when the nurse continued. “But, if you’re talking about the others, most of them left already.” With that Shuichi stopped in his tracks. He tried to wet his mouth so he could speak.

“W-what did you say? The o-others?” Shuichi 180ed so fast, his head screamed and throbbed but he didn’t care. “The ones who died? Th-they’re okay?” The nurse looked at him for a moment, expressionless.

“Well, yeah,” he said, matter-of-factly. “No one truly dies in _Danganronpa_.” Shuichi suddenly felt light headed, like he was going to faint. His thoughts spun and the words ‘it’s a lie’ seemed to flash in the back of his vision somewhere. Shuichi’s expression must have betrayed his thoughts because the nurse seemed to take a step back.

“Oh I forgot! I didn’t explain that did I?” Shuichi numbly directed his gaze towards the ground. “Yup! No one really dies….Well, not entirely.” Those words echoed in Shuichi’s head, bouncing off other thoughts and colliding with the relieve of no one being dead but also spilling a slight fear into his mind.

“What do you mean?” He asked, desperate to understand. Dead but not entirely?

The nurse grinned and clutched his clipboard with one hand as he explained. “ _Danganronpa_ is a virtual reality killing game simulator. But, just because the wounds and deaths aren’t real doesn’t mean you can’t ‘die’.” Every word seemed to pierce through Shuichi as he tried to comprehend the meaning of what he was being told. Virtual reality. No one really died. But… why…?

“See, a feature that had been implemented since V0 is the fake memories, talents, and personalities that allow the characters to come to life before the audience’s very eyes. The very things you are made up of,” the nurse chuckled. “There’s a special little agreement one must sign before the game that gives the ‘Player’, that being you, the option to keep whatever junk _Team_ _Danganronpa_ stuffs into their head should they win. It’s an optional prize, but who wouldn’t want to keep their own, very special, Super High School Level talent?!” He looked down at his clipboard and fell into a smile. “Not you, of course. Hah, you signed off on that prize.”

The Detective, or could he even call himself that anymore, trembled and had to sit down as his mind churned. He licked his dry lips and tried to put his thoughts to words. “W...w-what?” was all he could manage.

The nurse looked over and gently took the contract out of his hand. He watched as the nurse rolled it out, flipped to a page, and pointed to a small section of the contract. “See, you checked off on it before you entered the game. So you get to continue being the game character, how fun!”

“Wait—“

“But, if you ever want your regular memories you’re allowed to ask for them. _Team Danganronpa_ cannot legally prevent you from getting them back if asked.” The nurse concluded.

Shuichi grimaced when he remembered the audition tape Tsumugi had showed him. The him in the video was too… he didn’t want to think about it. Examining himself in the light, he saw that he was wearing the same outfit he was wearing in the video. He suddenly felt ill. He shook his head, deciding that he didn’t want those memories.

The nurse shrugged. “That’s fine, if you ever change your mind, don’t be afraid to ask. Just call _Team Danganronpa’s_ main number, I think it was provided to you somewhere. Oh well, you can’t really lose it, it’s pretty much written everywhere.”

“So, then…. The ones who die— lost…. What about them?”

“Since they lost, they don’t get to keep their memories of the game. That’s solely a perk for the winners to split the difference between winning and losing _Danganronpa_ , but also for mental safety,” he said with a shrug. “It’s to prevent them from having PTSD from their deaths. That was determined not an issue for any winners as they never died and, should they have had a traumatic experience in the game, you have an option to get rid of those.” It… made sense. Kind of. But that meant….

He suddenly remembered Momota and Akamatsu’s audition tapes. He felt his vision blurr further. Shuichi swiped at the tears forming in his eyes as he tried to muffle a whine in his throat. He didn’t do a good job, however, and the nurse walked over and sat next to him, sympathy and pity clear in his voice.

“Awh, hey. It’s okay. Your friends are still alive, you’ll get to meet up with the other winners here soon, and there’s still someone waiting in the lobby for you.” With those words, hope swirled in Shuichi’s chest. “Yeah, we couldn’t get them to go home, even though they passed the check up. They insisted on staying overnight for you. Even if some of the losers went home, you can still call them if they left their numbers. Heh, I know some casts like to stick together after the game. Some don’t but there’s an option.”

The faux Detective listened attentively but couldn’t stop himself from sobbing. There was too much to comprehend and so many emotions threatening to spill out. The nurse simply sat and patted his back lightly and didn’t say anything. Were he in a better state of mind, Shuichi would have complemented the man on his patience but it seemed like this was a normal occurrence for a _Danganronpa_ employee to go through.

After a few minutes of crying and wiping tears, Shuichi had managed to calm himself down. His eyes felt puffy and were probably red by now, but the nurse didn’t comment on it. When he was ready to go, he got up and stumbled to the door. The nurse set his clipboard down and helped him get his balance back. Shuichi wanted to be snarky to the man, simply because he was a _Danganronpa_ member, but he couldn’t find it in him to scapegoat the nurse or feel angry. He just felt empty. And sad.

Curiosity poked holes through any anger that threatened to swirl within him. He wondered who was waiting in the lobby and he slightly worried that he kept Harukawa or Yumeno waiting. The nurse was kind enough to help him down and through the halls, directing him and preventing the teenager from falling into a wall. They took an elevator down into a large space, the lobby Shuichi presumed. He looked around and saw a crowd of people with cameras on the outside of the building. The damn paparazzi he assumed. They spotted him and his hands darted to his eyes as soon as the rain of camera flashes and the muffled roar of questions fell upon him.

“Don’t worry, Saihara-san. They’re not allowed inside the building.” Shuichi was turned around so he didn’t have to face the cameras, but it still felt like there was a violent thunderstorm outside. He looked around, surveying the room for any sign of short red hair or the twin pigtails of an assassin. Turns out he didn’t have to.

“Neyhhh! Saihara-kun!” Yumeno bounded towards the faux Detective, wrapping him in a big hug. He felt a fiery warmth at her touch. Something familiar. She leaned up on her tippy toes and whispered into his ear a soft whine. “W-what do we do now Saihara-kun? My nurse said that everyone who died isn’t dead, b-but they don’t remember anything. It’s like they were resurrected by a rival warlock who wants to use our friends against us.” The taler student pat her head as she took a few steps back, giving him room.

“Y-yeah. It kind of seems that way, doesn't it, Yumeno-san?” He replied softly. He looked around, looking for any glimpse of Harukawa’s red eyes but he didn’t find any. So he opted to look for someone else. “Who’s waiting for us in the lobby?” Yumeno lit up with surprize.

“Someone’s waiting for us?! Neyyhh lets go.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him forward, but he didn’t miss the way that she, herself, stifled at the touch. She was probably sore and hurting as well. Shuichi let her pull him along to a small waiting room on the side of the lobby. He didn’t really know who he was expecting. His heart yearned for Akamatsu or Momota but he already had a feeling they had left, but a part of him still burned, hoping.

“Neyhh...?” Yumeno’s voice brought his attention to the person in front of him.

Instead, on a simple cushioned chair, a small boy with messy purple hair that stuck up, seemingly against forces of gravity, with his gaze pointed towards his phone, sat to greet them. Shuichi and Yumeno both stopped in confusion and shock. Ouma turned his head to face them, alarm clearly present. He was wearing a school uniform, though that seemed to be a theme with those who had participated in the game. There was a bandage on his face and what looked to be bruises going down his neck, disappearing under his school clothing. He was holding onto two objects, his phone and a black cap, both were gripped like he would lose them immediately if he were to ever let go.

Shuichi watched as Ouma’s expression melted into one of joy as he stood up, not hopping to his feet like the usually hyper boy would normally do, and made his way to Shuichi. He looked apologetic and relieved and a bit...afraid? Shuichi took backed away as Ouma came near, but the shorter boy was faster and managed to catch up to him, jumping up to place the cap on taller male’s head. He even shifted it a bit to Shuichi's left. Just...just like he used to wear it.

He was about to say something when Ouma bowed his head and sniffled.

“I-I-I’m sooo s-sorry! I-I didn’t m-mean to…. to do it,” Ouma sobbed, tears dripping down his face onto the carpet. The nurse didn’t say anything to berate the crying boy, like Shuichi had expected, but besides that, Ouma sounded so...so… genuine. Shuichi was hesitant to believe him but if what he was told was true then the boy in front of him wasn’t the same Ouma from the game. He wasn't the character he was written to be. He wasn’t like Shuichi.

“What are you apologizing for?” Shuichi found himself asking, reaching for his newly acquired hat. Yumeno kept a suspecting gaze fixed on the shorter boy and yelped when Shuichi gave him a reply. Ouma looked up confused, dew drops still steaming down his face. The former Supreme Leader’s eyes widened and he stumbled as he stepped back.

“S-Shuichi-kun...?” He hiccuped and Shuichi stumbled back at his name. Ouma’s voice sounded so small, too real to be a lie, but even then, Shuichi’s mind was left spinning from the addressal. _When had he and Ouma_ — _...?_

“Ouma-kun, did you just call me Shuichi….?” the Detective accidently said aloud.

“A-a—are you that m-m-mad at me?” the shorter boy asked, holding his hands in front of his chest as he fidgeted with his phone. “I-I s-skimmed the s-season and I r-re-really didn’t mean to do it!” Shuichi felt panic swelling in his chest as he didn’t know how to stop Ouma from crying. If they _were_ friends, Shuichi wasn’t sure how to break the truth to him.

He reached out to comfort him but reeled his hand back when he saw Ouma flinch. “I really don’t know what you think I’m mad about. What did you do?” Ouma’s brows furrowed in deep confusion and loss as both boys didn’t seem to be on the same page.

“W-what do I m-mean...?” Ouma started, rubbing his eyes. “I—I’m sorry for r-r-ruining _Danganronpa_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an idea I’ve had for a while. 
> 
> when pondering whether to leave a kudos or comment keep this in mind: I’m probably going to disappoint you aha
> 
> we’ll see how constistant my writing style will stay, I’ll await thee in the next chapter (whenever that comes out)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Nurse-Chan tries to clear some confusion up. It only half works.

All parties stood in silence for a minute trying to process the sounds leaving each other’s mouths and the words being said. Shuichi felt like there was a language barrier splitting both the survivors from the boy in front of them.

“You ruined  _ Danganronpa _ ?” Shuichi repeated, not quite understanding the weight of the words being uttered. He tried to remember back to the sixth trial, and he was fairly sure that he had been the leading cause behind  _ Danganronpa’s _ decline. Ouma seemed to pull something else out of the statement, however, and jumped suddenly with a squeak, tears forming in his eyes once more.

It was shocking to see him like this. The Super High School Level Supreme Leader would never cower or tremble like this unless it were for some sort of prank, but it felt way too genuine to be a lie. Even if Super High School Level students weren’t real, the Ouma from the killing game was never this convincing and the mere personality shift was such a contrast to the self proclaimed liar.

Ouma covered his face as he cried, real tears rolling down his cheeks. “Oh! I-I d-d-didn’t know y-you hadn’t w-watched it yet. I d-didn’t m-mean to spoil the ending for you….” The purple haired boy choked between sobs. Everything he said just spun Shuichi further and further into confusion.

“What...is he talking about?” Yumeno asked, looking to Shuichi as if he knew. All he could do was uselessly shrug in reply. The former Mage, unsatisfied with that, hopped forward and stared at the the other teen with a determined look. “Ouma-kun… It’s okay. Saihara-kun isn’t mad so you don’t have to cry.”

“She’s right, I’m not mad. Maybe we could sit down and...talk about it?” Shuichi suggested, not sure of what was the right thing to say. For the Ouma from the game, all he had to do was play along and the waterworks would dry themselves as a sly grin or horselike laugh would sound with maybe a “it’s a lie!” thrown in. This Ouma was much different and Shuichi instinctively knew that he wasn’t faking it. All he could do was wonder why the Ouma here was so shaken up. He watched as the crying high schooler whimpered but managed to halt or at least slow his tears.

“O-okay,” Ouma softly replied, a small, hesitant smile making its way onto his lips. He sat down and the other two followed, Yumeno claiming the seat next to Shuichi. There were still a lot of questions that Shuichi was itching to know the answers to, but he supposed it would be better not to rush for the sake of that.

“Ouma-kun, why did you say you ruined  _ Danganronpa _ ?” Shuichi asked, starting off slow. Ouma flinched at the sound of his name and was swiftly interrupted.

“—Because if that’s what you’re worried about, you don’t have to sad.  _ Danganronpa _ wasn’t ruined, in fact, your contribution actually increased ratings for the duration of the fourth trial and beyond,” Shuichi’s nurse cheerfully said with a grin. His bubbly behavior seemed to catch Ouma off guard as he was left reeling from what was said.

“I didn’t… ruin…?” Shuichi watched as Ouma frowned, his tone actually sounding disappointed. The shorter boy shook his head and sighed. “Well I-I’m still s-sorry for s-spoiling it for y-y-you.” He fidgeted with his phone as his gaze pointed towards the floor. “I k-know how m-much you h-hate spoilers….” Puzzle pieces were starting to click and Shuichi felt bad suddenly. Ouma clearly had known him. Known the version of him before the game. And if Shuichi wasn’t willing to get his old memories back then—

“Ouma-kun, actually I should tell yo—” this time Shuichi was cut off by Yumeno.

“Harukawa-san? Harukawa-san! Neyhh! HaruMaki, we’re over here!” The Mage shouted. Shuichi turned his attention towards where she was pointing to and saw the Assassin. She looked surprised by Yumeno’s outburst, no familiarity was shown at all on her face. In fact, a range of emotions were clear from just looking at her body language. Like the others, she was also adorned in a high school uniform. Shuichi didn’t think he’d ever say this but, he felt as if Harukawa’s very presence didn’t actually feel like a threat on his life.

Shuichi cursed at his intuition as he was already fathoming a guess as to why the former Assassin looked and felt so different. He felt his mouth go dry and he frowned. This Harukawa walked on over to them, a smile planted on her face. She got close and stuck out a hand in front of Shuichi’s face. Unsure whether to grab it or just let it be, Shuichi looked to his side for help but Yumeno was already out of her seat and embracing the Assassin with relief.

“I’m so happy you’re okay, HaruMaki,” the short girl exclaimed. Harukawa seemed a little uncomfortable with the Mage’s actions but smiled nonetheless.

“Well that’s good. Good game, you guys!” Harukawa said with more energy than Shuichi thought she was capable of as she tried to pry Yumeno off of her. She whipped herself off and  _ laughed  _ . “Guess we won, though I’ll have to go home and watch the season to see how. Oh, I’m so excited, how do you think we managed to survive?” She asked, unaware of the growing concern on Yumeno’s face.

“Neyhh, Harukawa-san? What’s wrong? Don’t you… remember how we…?” Shuichi wanted nothing more than to quickly explain to Yumeno what “happened” to Harukawa but he didn’t have too.

“Oh wait, did you two sign off on keeping your game counterparts?” Harukawa asked.

“ _ D-did you?  _ ” Ouma asked, voice laced with a bit of an edge as he stared at Shuichi with narrowed eyes. Harukawa noticed and seemed more entertained than anything and Shuichi found it to be a strange look on her after everything that had happened. He pointed his gaze to the floor and reached to pull down his hat over his eyes, a habit he thought he kicked when he tossed his hat but he supposed he was going through a relapse.

“Uh, well.…” he started, but yelped when his audition contract was ripped from his hands. Shuichi’s nurse, who had just been idly watching with his own amusement, suddenly gasped and reached forward to take the stolen contract away from Ouma.

The nurse frowned, the first negative look Shuichi had seen on the man since they had met. “Hey, give that back. You aren’t allowed to look at another contestant’s legal documents unless they are willingly shared. Ouma-san! Please!” Both the nurse and Ouma had grabbed an end of the rolled up stack of papers as if they were both tapped in a battle of wills, playing tug of war. Shuichi wasn’t sure what exactly to do but what he did know was that he should tell Ouma the truth.

He lightly tapped his nurse’s shoulder and softly told him that it was okay. The nurse let go immediately, allowing Ouma to take the documents freely, and looked at Shuichi with concern. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I think he deserves to know. I think we might have known each other before the game, I just can’t remember it.” Shuichi admitted, much to Yumeno’s surprise.

“That’s cute, you two joined as a pair?” Harukawa asked glancing back and forth between the two. Shuichi shrugged before slowly nodding. That’s at least what he guessed had happened, though only Ouma could know for sure at this point. They watched as Ouma flipped through Shuichi’s audition contract before landing on the desired page.

Shuichi watched as Ouma’s expression shifted, eyes going wide, before it broke. A look of horror, loss, and complete devastation filled the boy’s face. The contract fell to the ground as Ouma was at a loss for words and a loss for action. Shuichi bit his lip, unsure of how to ease the growing sense of guilt piling up in his gut. He didn’t want to have indirectly “killed” Ouma’s friend but he also didn’t want to return to being the kid from his audition tape. He was caught between two undesirable options, and didn’t know how to fix it.

“...Y-you….” Ouma started, after a moment of silence. The former Surpreme Leader’s head whipped up so fast, Shuichi worried he might accidentally give himself whiplash, when suddenly the boy grabbed the nurse by his work shirt and yanked him down to eye level. Shuichi knew that Ouma was nimble but he caught off guard by the speed of the previously hesitant boy. “G-give them back!” The shorter boy yelped. “G-give Sh-Shuichi-kun b-back his m-m-memories!” Shuichi winced as Ouma’s voice cracked. This Ouma was a lot more emotionally driven than his logical counterpart from the game and Shuichi didn’t know how to feel about it other than pity.

The nurse didn’t appear phased by Ouma’s actions and Shuichi seriously began to wonder what other participants had done to this man in the past. He appeared used to it, as if it happened too often to be uncommon. The nurse simply shrugged and frowned. “Sorry, Ouma-san.  _ Team Danganronpa _ cannot release Saihara-san’s memories unless he signs off on it. I already gave him the option and he declined, but he still has the ability to change his mind.” Apparently, that’s all that needed to be said. Ouma whipped himself around and lunged at Shuichi this time.

“Stop it!” Yumeno shouted, joining in the fray. The small magician tried to pry the purple boy off of Shuichi’s shirt, but yelped back as Ouma had apparently bitten her. “Ow! Neyhhh! Ouma-kun!” But Ouma wasn’t listening. He’d managed to pin Shuichi to the carpet floor, determination fueling him. Purple eyes met gold and the faux Detective could almost feel the warmth and anger pulsating off the boy.

“Y-you have to g-get them back! S-shu...You just have to! I-It’s...it’s not  _ f-fair!  _ ” Ouma screamed. Then his features softened and Shuichi felt warm tear drops fall down his cheeks from the eyes of the boy above him. “You…d-didn’t tell me you...of co-course you would’ve…signed….” he cried, voice dying out. Ouma was forcefully hoisted up by the nurse and sat down in a chair where he quietly sobbed for the most part.

“I’m extremely sorry for that, Saihara-san. I should’ve seen that coming, sometimes tensions between participants carry over simply because one ‘Player’ won and another lost.” The nurse frowned, extending a hand and helping Shuichi to his feet. Yumeno and Shuichi silently exchanged looks as Ouma continued to cry into his hands, his phone had dropped to the floor in the scuffle.

Harukawa chuckled with a wide grin, a sight Shuichi didn’t think he’d ever be able to get used to. “I’m going to take my leave, I have to catch a train. Nice to meet you guys, I guess. I’ll watch V3 when I get home, then maybe I’ll understand what I missed out by not checking off on that one prize.” She waved and started to leave. Yumeno turned in an effort to try to stop her, but Shuichi quickly grabbed her arm, keeping her back. There was really nothing they could do about Harukawa, and Shuichi just wanted to save her a heartache.

“Neyhh, H-Harukawa, why?” Yumeno looked completely lost, sadness clouding her eyes. “W-why does  _ Danganronpa _ have to be so...so mean?!” She shouted, kicking at the ground. The nurse stared at her expressionlessly before splitting into a grin.

“I’m not quite sure what you mean, but, as I’ve said and I’m sure my associates would’ve explained to you, you can always get your old memories back if you want.” He said, as if it were common knowledge.

“Is there perhaps a way...for a participant to have both their past memories and memories of the game?” Shuichi asked, mind striving to come to a solution that may please everyone but his hopes were crushed as his nurse shook his head.

“Sorry. You either keep your memories of the game or none at all. This issue was explored before with V0, which wasn’t many seasons ago. We let the winners keep both and it just caused more problems than it solved.” The nurse said, shrugging. “ _ Team Danganronpa _ suffered several lawsuits, which have been resolved now, but the keeping of clashing memories and personalities just kind of resulted in a few of the winners developing split personalities, which was a hassle for everyone involved.” Shuichi winced. He supposed there was no way to resolve this at all. “So yes. If you sign off on getting your old memories back,  _ Team Danganronpa _ will first take out your memories of the game. Those you cannot get back, so if you change your mind, there isn’t anything we can do.

“Neyhhh… what’s the process of getting your memories back?” Yumeno asked, prompting Ouma to look up. Shuichi glanced at her in surprize, was she considering it?

“Hm, it’s not quite my department, so I can’t say anything with complete accuracy, but  _ Team Danganronpa _ doesn’t completely wipe it’s participants of their old memories to stuff the new ones in, as you can see by Harukawa-san and Ouma-san,” the nurse said, putting a hand to their chin. “As far as I know, we just lock them away for a little bit until the game is over.”

“So Shirogane-san lied.” Shuichi found himself saying out loud. The nurse snickered in reply.

“Well, yeah. As the Mastermind, she’s allowed to fib every once in a while. Though, majority of what she’s permitted to say has to be truth. Not everything can be a complete fabrication.” He said with a light smile. “She’s gotta instill despair and corner the participants into voting somehow.” Something about that bothered Shuichi and he felt compelled to ask—

“How much of what happened in the game was prewritten and how much was unscripted?” He found himself saying out loud. With that, the nurse looked as if he were pondering the question himself.

“If I remember correctly, after all the auditions, Shirogane-san offered her outline for the game to the higher ups. She invented the character personalities, some arcs they were to go through, and the overall set up,” the nurse replied, scratching his head. “What’s supposed to happen is the participants get her characters uploaded into their heads whilst they play, but all ‘Players’ have a certain about of freedom to influence what goes on. Not everything is a scripted event. The character’s personalities and memories and everything are also founded on who they were before, that can add some extra flare to a season. So there is a bit of improv on her part.” Shuichi nodded and began to wonder how much of who he was was based on his old self.

“I think I understand.” He muttered. He looked over to Ouma who had fallen into sulking. He couldn’t help but wonder how much of the character was based on the boy in front of him. Shirogane did seem upset by the Supreme Leader’s plan to usurp her position as Mastermind, if Monokuma’s reaction was anything to go by. His mind itched to figure it out but he opted to wait.

Another awkward silence befell the group. Before it could go on further, the nurse cleared his throat and excused himself for the moment, saying he’d be right back with someone so that the rest of the survivors could officially be checked out. He took his leave, walking back down the hallway Shuichi had gone out of, leaving him, Yumeno, and Ouma alone.

Ouma glared at the two survivors over his folded knees, purple eyes piercing daggers through both of them with absolute hatred. Shuichi felt uncomfortable and found himself preferring the Supreme Leader who would, instead, hang off of his shoulders while yelling about one childish thing or another before hopping off and running, prompting Shuichi to give chance. The Detective wanted to try to understand or at least help the angry and clearly heartbroken high school student in front of him. He slid the cap off of his head and offered it to the purple haired boy, only for it to be swatted away.

“J-just leave m-me alone….” Ouma said in a low growl before giving them a hollow smile. “Heh, o-of course h-he’d do this...Wh-why didn’t I….? Of f-fucking course….”

“Ouma-kun, what are you talking about?” Shuichi asked, daring to step closer, slightly getting irritated by the lack of a clear response. With that, Ouma seemed completely livid.

“I-I’m talking a-about y-you! T-this! Everything!” He hissed, voice hitching. “Y-you w-weren’t even su-supposed to survive to the end. You c-certainly w-weren’t supposed to sign this!” He grabbed the audition contract off the floor and threw it at the Detective. He wiped at his puffy eyes, with a mocking grin, and, though it wasn’t quite as fierce as anything from the game, it managed to instill Shuichi with the feeling that he was being stabbed. “Y-you didn’t even t-tell me you were s-signing up for  _ Danganronpa _ !” The boy’s expression melted into one of pure sadness. All the anger fizzled out as he took his seat once again. Shuichi was at a loss for words.

“I-I’m sorry then, Ou—”

“Save it.” Ouma grunted, refusing to meet his gaze. “Y-you a-aren’t even a p-person….Ju-just another _Danganronpa_ _p-prop_ or whatever.” The words felt like they cut through Shuichi. Yumeno must’ve felt the same.

“No….We’re real. Right Saihara-kun? Fiction can ch-change the world...right?” She asked, looking to him for an answer. He didn’t have one. He wasn’t even sure they  _ had  _ changed anything. Any further conversation was thankfully interrupted by the nurse returning along with a young woman with a tablet and stylus of some sort.

“I’m back. This lady here can check you two out. Because you chose to keep your game memories, we understand you don’t remember anything from this life, so we’re going to call any parent or guardian that we might have under file to come pick you up.” The nurse said.

“D-don’t bother.” Ouma replied, looking up. “I-I’ll take S-Shuichi-kun home…. His p-parents are o-out of the country.” The nurse nodded and the young woman smiled, leaning down.

“Hello there, Saihara-san. Congratulations on winning the season! I don’t know if you’ve reviewed your audition contract but I’ll sum a few things up as a little reminder. At the end of the month, you’ll have to attend DRCon as a guest for the panel. All participants have been invited but all winners are required to come.” She grinned.

“Neyhh?! You’re forcing us to go?” Yumeno squeaked. The lady looked at her with a lopsided grin.

“I’d like to think that you have the opportunity to go.” She replied with a hum. “Anyway, your other prizes include the full sum of prize money as well as a royalty check that you can expect in the mail at the top of each month.” Royalty check? Shuichi wondered why that could be, as he was already going to receive a large sum of money to begin with. Apparently his confusion read on his face as she continued. “This  _ is Danganronpa _ . We’re not a greedy corporation. No, no, when we sell merchandise of your character, you’ll get your dues.” He slowly nodded in comprehension, though the thought of people parading about with toys and trinkets of those he considered his friends made him feel ill.

“Anyway, you get your prize money, free tickets to DRCon every year as well as the opportunity to be a guest on this year’s panel, your character and talent, and exclusive access to our airline, should you desire to fly anywhere within Japan, as well as a few more things here and there.” Shuichi blankly stared at her, trying to process why in the world  _ Danganronpa _ would own their own airline. She chuckled, reading him like a book. “You can’t say that we don’t compensate our participants.  _ Danganronpa _ is such a popular franchise that we have much to offer, especially for our winners. Such as free flights, private escorts, certain invitations to special events, and the like.”

“But... _ why  _ ?” Shuichi suddenly blurred out, completely baffled by why a killing game was so damn popular that it would be able to finance such commodities. Even if the outside world was so peaceful it was boring, even if the participants didn’t really die, he just couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“Why? You won the most popular game show on earth. You’re a celebrity now.” When Shuichi didn’t reply, she sighed before smiling once again. “Over the years,  _ Danganronpa _ has reduced the amount of winners there are each season. It only comes down to the final two to three, so each years newest winners are usually the most popular. Since you’re famous now, you should be able to act like it! Flaunt your privileges round, you earned it, and  _ Team Danganronpa _ makes sure it provides the winners with the opportunity to do so.” The woman flicked her wrist and poked her tablet a few times.

“Now that that is out of the way, you’ll need to sign here for your release and you can go home. Yumeno-san, you will have to wait here until your parental guardian shows up. I’ll go ahead and give the number you provided a call. Saihara-san, you and Ouma-san can head on home.” The nurse said, leaving to take care of Yumeno. The short girl looked at Shuichi, conflicted.

“N-neyyhh…? Wait, I don’t want to go!” She protested, stomping on the ground. Shuichi felt pangs of guilt stab his chest.

“I’m sorry, Yumeno-san. We’ll catch up, okay?” He asked, offering her a hand. She gladly took it but looked to him with a sad expression.

“Promise?”

He offered her a warm smile. “I promise.” With that, she was satisfied and hesitantly walked over to join the nurse. The woman who stayed handed Shuichi her tablet and showed him where his signature was required. He signed after reading what the contract had entailed. It was a simple release form. There was no hidden text or tricks to be played. With that done, the woman took her tablet back and grinned.

“Fantastic. Last thing before you leave, would you be willing to leave your phone number for contact should any of the other participants of this season wish to reach out. By doing so, you’ll get added to a group chat with any others who left their information.” Shuichi gladly said yes and the woman smiled, content. “Alright, I’ll add you later! Have a great day, you two.” She waved before turning around and meeting up at the front desk where Yumeno was getting checked out.

That left Shuichi and Ouma to walk home.

Trying the first thing that came to mind, Shuichi picked his hat back up from off the floor and placed it back on his head. He took a few steps towards Ouma and lightly smiled for him. “I guess you’re taking me home?” Ouma glared at him then picked up his phone before turned around and walking towards the door. Shuichi found himself frowning. He took one last look around the lobby before running out after the smaller boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [edit] story retcon! yep, already. I'll address this in the notes next chapter too but, DRCon is now a month away and not at the end of the week and the character's now use honorifics, which, in actuality, made the first chapter's ending make a lot more sense. you don't have to reread these chapters but I think it makes a world amount of difference.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~I edited the first chapter, getting rid of the weird and awkward “mr” and “ms”. now the adults just address the kids with their last names. I’d do honorifics if I knew how to properly, heh.~~
> 
>  
> 
> I won’t be able to spoil you anymore. no more chapters within the next week I’m afraid. 
> 
> but I think that may be a good thing, as this chapter felt really repetivative with all the talking and I think I’ve crushed some dreams with the way I’m trying to steer this story. w h o o p s.
> 
> we’ll get into some (hopefully) better bits in the next few chapters. I’d say this was slow burn but I don’t think I can write slow burn, this is more like...trying to roast a chicken with a broken toaster; slow until everything catches fire and explodes.
> 
> ooh well, see you in the next chapter (whenever that will be)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, two boys enjoy a scenic and totally-not-awkward train ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick thing; characters now address each other in honorifics as it sounds better, thx to user: taruhi. and I changed my mind, DRCon will happen in a month canon time. aight enjoy the show

Ouma seemed to be in a rush to leave. Shuichi found himself sprinting down the sidewalk to catch up. The other boy wasn’t even walking that fast, but Shuichi was already behind. His legs yelled at him with every step, his body still hadn’t adjusted to active movement yet, but he knew that if he lost sight of Ouma, there was no way he was getting home, wherever that might be.

 

Even so, his gaze flickered to the sights around him. He hadn’t realized that Dangaronpa’s HQ building was smack down in the middle of a city. After being trapped in a post apocalyptic prison school for so long, Shuichi found himself in awe of the sight of grand scale buildings, digital signs, and all the people walking about, socializing. Stores filled with consumers while teenagers ran to catch up with their friends. Just watching a few children chatting among themselves made Shuichi think that he couldn’t be more grateful that humanity actually wasn’t, in fact, extinct.

 

But as, Shuichi was taking in the scenery, he realized how far Ouma had gotten ahead of him. The former Supreme Leader looked to have no intentions to check back and see if Shuichi was even still following him, and the taller boy began to worry. Shuichi picked up the pace and dashed after him, feeling the burn of fatigue in his chest. None of the night training with Momota had carried over into the real world, and it suddenly dawned on him that he had probably never worked out in his life before, so he wouldn’t be used to running, even if he hadn’t just woken up from a two to three week coma.

 

Shuichi stumbled on the pavement, quickly catching himself before he fell, his hat falling right off. His eyes darted back up once his balance had returned, but he found that he couldn’t pinpoint Ouma anymore. He retrieved his hat and frantically searched the busy sidewalk before him for any signs of the boy, clutching his cap in his hands like a lifeline. His heart sank as he thought he saw the end of purple locks disappear into the crowd. He licked his dry, nervous lips, trying to find his voice.

 

“O-Ouma-kun?” He started, feeling an ache in his voice from yelling. “ _Ouma-kun!_ ” Before he could start running after the other once more, Shuichi was suddenly blinded by a bright light and a _click._ He rubbed his eyes and blinked in rapid succession to try to see what the hell that was. Another flash came to welcome him, though, and he found himself falling back. He scrambled to his feet when another bright light consumed his gaze. Teenage laughter filled his ears as another click sounded in his ears. The feeling of being overwhelmed crashed over him and he gripped the black cap that sat on his head, tugging it down to protect his eyes. Voices and clicks and chatter swarmed in the air, blocking all other senses.

 

_“...ook! Is that really him?...”_

 

“...g...ah” he choked out, trying to back away from a small group of high school girls, phone cameras at the ready, reaching out to try and grab a picture of him. Words were being exchanged around him, but Shuichi was having trouble hearing and understanding them all. He was never used to being the center of attention, and, if the memories that _Team Danganronpa_ were anything to go by, he’d never been surrounded by more than fifteen people at a time. The nurse wasn’t lying, he really was a celebrity in this world.

 

_“...definitely, it’s so totally hi.…”_

 

_“..awhh, he’s a cutie!”_

 

_“...ara-kun! Take a selfie with m.…”_

 

And he absolutely hated it.

 

Shuichi turned on his heel and attempted to dart away from them only to find himself boxed in by a line of younger kids, looking in awe and amazement at his very existence. Shuichi’s feet hesitantly took a step back. Others began to notice what everyone else was staring at and they decided to join in. He felt dizzy and panicked as he was suddenly aware of the developing crowd of fans around him. He whipped himself around, trying to find an exit or way out, but as he did, the fans just came closer.

 

Someone grabbed his arm, and Shuichi yelped, trying to rip it out of their grip. A hand reached out and took his hat clean off his head. He spun and grabbed it before it could disappear into the growing horde, but found himself in a game of tug of war with a complete stranger. He gripped his audition contract in his mouth, as his hands were occupied, and prayed to whatever God, entity, Auta(?), or whatever else that was out there that no one in their right mind would try to steal _that_.

 

He jolted back, winning his hat, but also a free fall, as someone had wrapped an arm around his neck and taken a quick selfie whilst he was unaware. No one helped him or offered him a hand as his shoulder hit the ground. Only a chorus of laughter met his ears as he winced in pain, a promise of a bruise gracing his arm. Trying to get onto his feet again, and grasping his hat and contract with a death like grip, Shuichi felt tears biting at the back of his eyes. This was too much. This was _overwhelming!_ In the back of his mind he felt himself laugh and ponder if this was a trait given to him by Shirogane or one he’d had before.

 

Too many conversation were going on at a time. He couldn’t think straight.

 

_“...can’t believe he survived longer than Akamatsu-chan....”_

 

_“...ember him! He lurked on all those online for….”_

 

_“...eh, he’s not meeting up with my headcanons….”_

 

_“...OMG, where’s Momota-kun! They should kiss!”_

 

_“...ven I would’ve been a better protagonist than him….”_

 

Shuichi made it back to his feet, but he wasn’t sure where to go from there. His thought process just stopped dead in its tracks, and he spun around looking for _anything_ while seeing nothing but the sea of people. It felt like he was drowning, except instead of his lungs filling with water, they weren’t being filled with anything at all. Was he breathing? That’s not drowning, that’s suffocation….Good God, he forced himself to suck in a breath, his heart pounding in his chest. The dizzy feeling returned, though it never really left and he felt like he was falling, though his feet were firmly planted to the concrete.

 

His head swirled and words collided and bounced and all meaning disappeared entirely. Ouma had left him in a world he didn’t understand. He was _fictional_ . The words ‘it’s a lie! _It’s a lie!_ ” repeated over and over again behind his eyes until nothing else filled his vision. He was lost and confused and his talent was of no help to him in all sense of the word. The clamor around him had just become white noise at this point. There was no meaning, no words that made sense, and no point in trying to comprehend them.

 

Shuichi was suddenly yanked forward by the blue striped tie that was wrapped around his neck, forcing him to gasp in surprise and terror. His legs stumbled to grab footing as to prevent him from being dragged through the crowd. Primal survival instincts led him after the end of his tie so it wouldn’t end up a noose. The barrage of photos and flashes didn’t stop as he was forcefully guided out onto a clearer part of pavement like a stubborn animal on a leash.

 

Burning purple met trembling gold and Ouma _frowned_. The appearance of the shorter boy just seemed to spark even more obsession out of the crowd.

 

_“...ook, it’s the Supreme Leader!”_

 

_“...y god! Ouma-kun, flash us a grin!”_

 

_“...re you two a couple? Oooo-...”_

 

_“...uck you! You killed Gonta-kun!”_

 

Shuichi watched Ouma stiffen at their words, but he shook them off as he grabbed Shuichi’s hand and pulled him to his feet.

 

“C-c’mon!” Shuichi’s savior ordered, jerking him forward again before letting go and running. Shuichi, determined not to make the same mistake again, wasn’t going to lose him this time, and ran like hell after him. A sliver of the mob gave chase and Shuichi’s heart jumped. He tried to keep his concentration on the former Supreme Leader and almost slid on the pavement in surprize as Ouma turned a corner, swiftly navigating a shady looking alley way.

 

Seeing no choice but to follow, Shuichi tried his best to keep after. He accidentally stepped in puddles of sewage and almost tripped over poles that jetted out of the wall of whatever buildings were sandwiching the alley. Ouma leaped over them with ease, ducking and crawling his way until he stood at the light end of the way. None of the fans, obsessed as they were, liked them enough to follow, and he was thankful for that. When he reached the end he was completely out of breath and light headed. He panted swallowing oxygen and trying to wet his dry throat. He was a mess.

 

“How did...you…?” Shuichi tried to asked, after he’d regained his breath and his heartbeat was returning to normal. He couldn't help but wonder how Ouma could navigate an improved escape route like that, it certainly seemed like something the ingame version of the boy would be able to do.

 

Ouma glanced at him, expressionless, before shrugging, mumbling something like “I’m used to it” before moving on, this time at a slower pace. Shuichi followed. He tugged his hat over his eyes, trying to avoid direct eye contact with anyone else. No one else seemed to notice it was him, except maybe one or two bystanders who snapped their photo but didn’t try anything. Shuichi found his gaze directed only to the back of Ouma’s head for the while. He watched, not quite knowing where he was going, as Ouma’s hair stuck up and bounced with the smaller boy’s step.

 

It was one of those things he had always meant to ask the Supreme Leader during the game, the question of how his hair worked. It was short but got longer towards the sides and the back, to which it then started to defy gravity itself. He supposed the answer to that was the same one as why he, and a select sum of others, had a singular cowlick placed somewhere on the top of their heads, one that would usually refuse to stay down even when drenched in the rain. Quiet thoughts like this slowed his heart rate and calmed him down ever so slightly.

 

Eventually the duo made it to a train station. Ouma opened the door and held it open for Shuichi to step inside. Even now, Ouma still seemed to be greatly upset by Shuichi’s earlier decision, but he didn’t ditch him, after all. Shuichi kept his face mostly obscured by his cap as Ouma wordlessly set them up to catch a train. He left Shuichi to sit on a bench as he secured some tickets with pocket money he apparently had. When he returned, he gently handed Shuichi his own blue ticket and, for a brief moment, Shuichi could feel the slight tremble of the other’s hand.

 

Ouma sat down next to him and pulled his phone back out. Shuichi hesitantly leaned over to catch a glimpse of his screen, but the shorter boy pulled his device back, stared at Shuichi for a quiet moment, an air of _‘don’t you dare’_ radiating off of him. The Detective received the message loud and clear and turned away. When his gaze magnetically pulled itself back, Ouma was thoroughly absorbed in whatever he was reading or watching, his phone’s screen angled away from Shuichi’s searching eyes.

 

Other people gathered around them, but thankfully, they weren’t interested in Shuichi. They were just catching their evening train and opted to leaving the two alone for the most part. Shuichi was certain that he had heard a small kid shout “Look it’s him!” But no one approached. The Detective watched the people passing by, careful not to leave his gaze on any one person for two long.

 

A few stopped and snapped their photos, but to Shuichi’s surprise, their attention was directed towards Ouma. When that would happen, Ouma would freeze, careful not to look up from his screen. Those fans attempted to get a raise out of the shorter boy, and Shuichi almost jumped in to stop them, but they lost interest quickly due to a lack of reaction and went on their way before he could intervene.

 

Looking back at Ouma, who didn’t seem to notice Shuichi’s attention wandering back over to him, he noticed that the purple haired boy had band-aids covering his fingers and wrists in addition to the bandage on his face. Shuichi couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to him to result in such injuries, but he felt that he was in no position to ask. He darted his eyes elsewhere, but his gaze eventually settled on a little phone charm that hung from Ouma’s device.

 

A little silver, 2D Monokuma charm hung from it. In any other world, Shuichi would’ve classified it as “cute” but as he was now, Shuichi felt himself leaning away from it, an uncomfortable feeling invading his gut. He frowned, cleared his throat, and looked away.

 

The train would arrive in less than ten minutes, but for Shuichi, it was an eternity. When it eventually pulled in, Ouma jerked his head up and grabbed Shuichi’s arm, pulling him to his feet. No words were exchanged and Ouma kept a neutral expression plastered to his face. He gestured to the train and hauled Shuichi over to the door before shoving him inside.

 

Shuichi couldn’t shake the awkward feeling as he found a seat next to where Ouma had planted himself down. He tapped his fingers along his chair and stared out the window, watching building and people blur into shapes as an announcement played over the loudspeakers and the train pulled out of the station.

 

“O-our s-stop i-is about three h-hours away.” Ouma muttered quietly before he directed his attention solely back to his phone. Shuichi couldn’t help but wonder why. He didn’t want to ask directly, as Ouma didn’t seem to want to share whatever it was he was doing, but Shuichi feared if he didn’t say anything, the whole ride would be drenched in silence. He decided to spark a conversation on the thing that had gotten them in this situation to begin with, and after mentally debating his course of action, Shuichi decided to finally speak up and try to break the awkward and icy silence that had settled between the two.

 

He, oh so, unsubtly cleared his throat. When that didn’t work, he gently nudged Ouma’s shoulder, prompting the purple haired boy to glance up at him. He hesitantly smiled and reached to pull his hat down, out of habit, working the courage to speak.

 

“So….You like _Danganronpa_?” Shuichi asked, voice trembling slightly with the delivery. Ouma’s blank expression gave away nothing, his purple eyes flickering back and forth as if he were trying to read what Shuichi was thinking. Shuichi felt himself get ever so slightly nervous, like he were being evaluated and graded on his delivery. Ouma eventually tore his eyes away and signed, holding up his Monokuma phone charm and giving it a look.

 

“...A-actually, I’m n-not really a fan….” he replied, though Shuichi could feel a bit of venom and weight loaded into the statement. Ouma let the charm fall, gravity pulling it down until the string it was attached to stopped it from being lost altogether, as he focused back on the content his phone screen was producing. Shuichi nodded, understanding a little less than he thought he did.

 

“Then...um... _why...?_ ” Shuichi tried, fumbling over the question he was trying to ask. Ouma understood enough and shrugged.

 

“Y-you gave t-this to me… actually.” He replied, lightly tapping his phone against his hand. “...I-I may not like _D-Danganronpa_ , b-but…it was f-from you so….” Ouma frowned. The Detective’s mind pondered different possibilities with this information. Maybe he, the old him that is, had forced or encouraged Ouma to join this season. The thought tore Shuichi’s gut in all sorts of different places due to what that might have implied. He felt the need to know more, learn more about Ouma, the old him, and their dynamic, just to be sure.

 

“Were...were we friends?” Shuichi asked, fidgeting with his audition contract. The question made Ouma glance up with a look of confusion, pain plaguing his features. His lips pressed into a firm line as he set his phone to the side and dared to meet Shuichi’s eyes.

 

“I….Yes. I think we w-were….I’d _l-like_ t-to think we were an-anyway.” Ouma looked down, a conflicted expression on his face. “T-then again….I-if we were...y-you wouldn’t h-have gone off a-and....” Ouma frowned and slightly nodded his head towards Shuichi, leaving the rest to go unsaid.

 

“Oh…. I’m sorry then.” The purple haired boy only shook his head in reply.

 

“It doesn’t m-matter, now, anyway,” he replied, the words empty. Shuichi bit his lip. He looked down at Ouma’s bandages and scanned his bruises, the ones he could see anyway. Ouma seemed to notice and pulled his hands closer to his chest. “Oh. You d-didn’t do this o-or anything. Ah, I just… I-I’m clumsy sometimes…. Um.” It was clearly a lie, but Ouma didn’t want to talk about it. “Y-you don’t have to w-worry….You p-patch me up, ah, af-after school, most days.” Now that felt real but Shuichi didn’t like what that meant. Did Ouma get picked on on a daily basis?

 

The silence between them returned, the air only being filled with the sound of the train and the other people aboard it. Ouma let his phone rest against his hand as he now chose to stare out the window, his foot impatiently tapping against the train floor. Shuichi supposed their friendship, if it could be called that, was a touchy subject. Shuichi stole a quick glanced at the shorter boy and didn’t miss how he blinked away the glossiness from his eyes.

 

“Are you okay?” Shuichi asked stupidly, reaching over in an attempt to comfort him. Ouma didn’t stop him from resting his hand on his shoulder but looked away in an effort to not show Shuichi his tears.

 

“...’m f-f-fine….” Ouma replied, moving his hand towards his own face. “...Y-you p-probably t-th...think I’m a c-crybaby, hu-huh, Shu...Sss...sssS-Saihara-kun?” Shuichi winced at the addressal change, but figured there wasn’t much he could do about it. He said nothing and withdrew his hand. The two boys turned their heads in the opposite direction and stared out the clear window on the other side of the train, as the conversation came to a depressing end.

 

About half an hour passed and Shuichi began to wonder where exactly their stop was. Hell, he was beginning to wonder what time it was, since he didn’t have a chance to figure that out earlier and it was hard to understand the overhead speaker on the train. He turned around towards Ouma, figuring that asking him wouldn’t be an uncomfortable question and could maybe ease them back into talking, when he noticed the other’s eyes were closed and his facial features were at rest. Shuichi quietly acknowledged the sleeping boy, nodding and looking away. Oh well, he’d figure it out later, though he would have to wake Ouma up eventually, at least to check what stop they were supposed to be at.

 

He was beginning to nod off as well, when a hard object fell onto his arm. He whipped his head around only to find Ouma’s sleeping figure leaned against him. A slight chill went up his spine and Shuichi tried his best not to move. He had no idea how long the purple haired boy’s day had been, seeing as how he willingly waiting from the end of his “death” to the end of the game, so maybe Ouma hadn’t slept in a while.

 

The sun had begun to set, already, and Shuichi felt so exhausted. He felt his own eyelids become heavy so rested his head back on the window behind him. Shadows and evening light quickly passed interchangeably as the train continued on it’s path. Shuichi stiffened as he felt Ouma shift, moving ever so slightly, wrapping one hand around Shuichi’s arm as if to pull them closer. Shuichi felt heat rush to his face in embarrassment and uncomfort, but he didn’t do anything as he began to melt. He didn’t want to disturb the boy, even at the cost of burning alive.

 

Shuichi felt like a liar. He had essentially stolen the life of someone else and was walking around in their skin. No wonder Ouma wasn’t fond of him. Shuichi felt like he owed it to Ouma, at least. He’d let the boy sleep and he wouldn’t give it a single complaint. It was the least he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~(gotta love the outside world of V3....)~~  
>  hazy talks:: usually when I write something, like a fan fiction, I usually write what I wish someone else had written so I can just take the back seat and be along for the ride. when I'm actually the one driving, mistakes will be made and I may or may not be a good driver to begin with. 
> 
> anyway, I like writing this story, and I found myself with more motivation to keep it going than I had first thought. I hope this chapter was to your enjoyment and doesn't disappoint! I know I'm not like the writing gods of this site (you know the ones) but I hope my lackluster writing doesn't doesn't bog down the plot. see you in the next chapter


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Ouma has to assume the role of caretaker for our clueless protagonist.

Shuichi woke up with a start. He hadn’t realized that he’d even fallen asleep. Ouma was shaking him, a determined look planted on his features. Shuichi blinked before realizing that they had to get off the train immediately or risk missing their stop.

 

“C-c’mon! Move!” Ouma demanded, scooping an arm under Shuichi’s to hoist him up and towards the exit. Ouma had originally taken a seat next to the train door, so getting there wasn’t the problem. Shuichi felt groggy and dazed, like he had been when he had first woken up but a bit worse. He stumbled over his own feet as they stepped off the train onto the platform, almost tripping and face planting onto the hard, metal floor. Ouma wasn’t interested in waiting for his clumsy ass, because he was already five feet ahead of him and going. Learning from past mistakes, Shuichi booked it after him, not willing to repeat three hours ago.

 

It was fairly late outside, as the sun had already set and only the busy city and streetlights were left to illuminate their way home. Shuichi guessed that the two had only traveled that far to participate in the killing game. At least he hoped that they didn’t have a three hour daily commute to the places they needed to go, he couldn’t image doing that twice a day for school or anything, but he didn’t feel like pushing his luck and asking Ouma about it just yet.

 

Speaking of whom, the purple boy was speeding down the sidewalk at a fast pace, occasionally glancing back over his shoulder to see if Shuichi was still there and not lagging behind. One thing Shuichi noticed was that Ouma wasn’t keen on letting him catch up too much, often speeding up when he determined that Shuichi was moving fast enough. He supposed that Ouma was either in a rush or had a distaste for him  _ that much _ . Either way, Shuichi just didn’t want to lose sight of him this time, and if fifteen feet was the only distance between them, Shuichi wouldn't mind.

 

Eventually, Ouma led him into an apartment building, already starting up the stairs. The person Shuichi was before he joined Danganronpa apparently lived on the fifth floor of the apartment complex. Shuichi heaved his tired body up the stairs to where Ouma was waiting at the top impatiently, his foot tapping anxiously and his hands fidgeting with his phone once more.

 

As soon as Shuichi was at the top of the stairs, Ouma turned on his heel and walked down the open hallway of doors until he stopped. Shuichi finally caught up and Ouma didn’t run anymore. He examined the apartment number, 562 and made a mental note to remember it for convenience sake.

 

Ouma glanced at him expectantly, as if he were supposed to do something. Shuichi frowned and took a step back, wondering if Ouma forgotten that he had no memories of this place or what he was supposed to do. Eventually, Ouma rolled his eyes and walked over to him before sticking a hand in Shuichi’s front pocket, fishing out a small key. He dangled it in front of Shuichi’s face, expressionless once again, as if to say  _ really? _ and Shuichi felt his face flush in embarrassment for being so stupid.

 

He wondered what else might’ve been in his pockets and cursed himself for not checking them earlier. He found a few pieces of trash and a phone.  _ His _ . He pulled it out and held the on button only to find a lock screen to meet him. He stared at a picture of Kyoko Kirigiri and felt himself blush under the heat of a thousand suns. That would be the first thing to go, if he could open it. The lock screen was a swipe pattern, and Shuichi was already clueless on what the old him might've set for it.

 

Ouma snapped him out of those thoughts by clearing his throat, extremely loudly, as he presented the open apartment door. Shuichi quietly thanked him and walked inside, stashing the phone away for later.

 

He watched Ouma grap a pile of mail that had been sitting by the side of the door, turn on some lights, and dump the pile onto the kitchen counter, probably for later. The room lit up, illuminating through the dark via some fairy crappy fluorescent lights.

 

Shuichi didn’t really know what he was expecting his abode to look like, but, as it was, it was a normal apartment, by all means. There was a small kitchen area, a TV, bathroom, couch, etc…. It was tidy except for the large pile of papers and mail Ouma had set down earlier. Actually, most of the cleanliness of the place seemed to come out of unuse. The stove and oven looked like they hadn’t been used in the slightest, and Shuichi deduced that who ever was living here must’ve either bought a new one recently or never bothered to use this one. Shuichi found it a bit of a waste.

 

While looking around, Shuichi recognized some  _ Danganronpa _ related merchandise sitting on top to the TV and decorating a few spots the home, but it was fairly subtle, like a Monokuma plush sitting here or a trinket hanging off a hook or something. Seemingly on auto pilot, Ouma went on ahead, turning the thermostat on before heading to the kitchen area to take out two small packages. 

 

“I-I’ll make u-us some d-dinner….” Shuichi heard Ouma mutter softly, becoming focused on his task. He walked over to the counter and watched Ouma take out two small boxes of instant curry and rice. He grimaced thinking that the old him had survived off of nothing but instant food, as the kitchen seemed to be stocked with only that. That was going to change….

 

Ouma put them both into the microwave after ripping of their plastic covers, plugged in a number and let it go. The familiar buzzing filled the room and Ouma moved to prepare something else. He opened Shuichi’s, he guessed, refrigerator and took out two bottles of a questionable substance he eventually realized was grape  _ Panta, _ setting them down before searching through the cabinets for two, tall glass cups. Once they were filled with ice, Ouma poured the drinks in and set one in front of Shuichi as he took a sip of his own. 

 

It all seemed too automatic, like a routine that Ouma had done numerous times before. Shuichi began to wonder if Ouma lived there with him, and the thought caused him to heat up again. Guilt and embarrassment flushed through his system. He wondered if that would make things worse or better.

 

Taking a small drink from the glass, Shuichi’s sense reeled from the bubbly sensation. He hadn’t had  _ Panta  _ before, at least he didn’t remember it and he was slightly surprised it was a real product. Then again, if  _ Danganronpa  _ were available to watch 24/7 whilst the killing game were going on, it’d make sense for the francize to sneak in product placement in that way.

 

Now that he was thinking deeper into it, he had to wonder just how much of the game and everything was fabricated and how much was real. His memories were questionable, but the nervous quirks and such seem like they were based in reality. His hat was obviously something that carried over, and the nurse from earlier did say that the ‘Player’ could influence their ‘character’, but to what degree he wondered.

 

“I’m kind of surprised my name is actually Shuichi Saihara…..” Shuichi accidentally realized he’d said aloud. Ouma gave him a look, confused, straightening up, mouth slightly agape.

 

“W-why…?” Ouma asked, making Shuichi feel further like an idiot. He shifted slightly and tried to word his reasoning in a way that could revive his wounded pride, or what was left of it.

 

“Ah, well, Shirogane-san showed me my audition tape,” Shuichi started, watching Ouma’s expression falter. “A—and, for some reason my name was bleeped out. So I just figured, she’d made it  _ all  _ up, or, um.”

 

Ouma blinked then turned away. “Nah. T-they do that f-for privacy reasons.” The purple boy tapped his fingers against his glass. “W-when you’re ch-chosen for  _ Danganronpa  _ y-you sign a-away your name to b-be used f-for merchandise. T-those who d-don’t g-get in, technically didn’t s-sign away their rights or whatever.” Shuichi nodded.  _ Right _ .  _ Team Danganronpa _ cared about privacy. Sure.

 

“So….When’s my uncle coming home?” He tried. If his parents were out of the country, as Ouma had said, it was fairly likely that Shirogane had based a significant part of his memories on his real past. Ouma scoffed at the question and took a long drink from his glass.

 

“...Y-you don’t l-live with your uncle.” Ouma answered simply. The reply startled Shuichi a bit. Did his parents really just dump him on the street without a legal guardian? “Y-you own this apartment, Sshhh….ssSaihara-Kun. Y-you didn’t have to j-join  _ Danganronpa _ to earn money, you’re already l-loaded, e-enough. Your parents pay you ea-each month in p-place of actually being here.” Shuichi felt nauseous. That...sounded about right. Matched up with some of his faux memories. He was about to say something but Ouma beat him to the punch. “Y-you d-did live with your uncle for a b-bit. But he k-kicked you out and you moved in here.”

 

Shuichi nodded, hurt by the reality Ouma was telling him, but sort of understanding the whole thing. That information confirmed what he was wondering about, so, Shirogane didn’t just improvise on all of their memories. They were at least grounded in something that was real at some point in time. He tried to search his brain for anything from the game that might’ve been questionable and tried to find a real world equivalent for it. His thoughts drifted to the game version of Ouma and everything Shirogane had written about him but only one thing stuck out to him that he realized he really wanted to know. 

 

DICE. The Super High School Level Supreme Leader’s pacifistic, criminal organization. He had been told it was just a group of prankster kids run by Ouma, which now seemed like a far cry from the truth. Shuichi chalked it up to the boy’s stutter, but the Ouma in front of him really didn’t seem like he could run an organization or anything close.

 

While pondering that, Shuichi stole a glance at the pile of mail that he, apparently, hadn’t touched for duration of the last month. He sorted through them, trying to figure out if he screwed himself over by not answering some important bills or letters or whatever when he found that more than a few of them were addressed to Kokichi Ouma. He whipped his head back up at Ouma, who was intensely watching the microwave. He trembled slightly, trying to sort out Ouma’s mail from the ones addressed to himself. When Ouma had turned around to glance back at him, Shuichi dared to ask.

 

“Do we, um…live here, together?” Ouma stared at him, face blank, his eyes flickering to the mail and back so fast Shuichi almost missed it, before snickering. 

 

Ouma set his glass down and took the food out of the microwave, as it was done spinning. He set the curry rice down, opened a drawer, took out two forks, and set them in each bowl, scooting one towards Shuichi. Ouma dug out a bit of rice, blew on it, then set it back down when he determined it was too hot.

 

“...No. We don’t live t-t-together.” Was the response. The hint of an amused smile graced the shorter boy’s lips. Ouma took a bite of curry and looked down at the counter, refusing to meet Shuichi’s eyes. A moment passed, Shuichi didn’t touch his food yet as he waited in suspense, before Ouma finally continued. “...W-we agreed to s-send m-my own stuff here. Um, it g-gets stolen a-at my apartment.” Shuichi nodded and started picking at his own food. He took a bite, not minding the scalding rice on his tongue, but he forced himself to finish it. It didn’t taste bad, but he couldn’t imagine anyone surviving solely off of it.

 

“Where do you live?” He asked, and, after a few bites, Ouma pitifully smiled at his bowl.

 

“N-not close.” Ouma seeed to want all conversations to cease as soon as possible. It made him feel bad to intrude on Ouma’s comfort, but he couldn’t be left in the dark. They both ate a bit more, settling back into silence, a silence that Ouma surprisingly was the first to break.

 

“...Y-you have s-school tomorrow. Uh, w-we both do.” The shorter boy said, quietly, stuffing more rice into his mouth. A pause. “I-I’ll take you. A-and p-pick you up after i-its over. Uh. W-we go to different schools, though.” Shuichi slowly nodded. That would explain why their school uniforms were so different, but....

 

“What day is today?” The taller boy asked, realizing how out of it he was. Ouma checked his phone and showed Shuichi the date. October 17. It was a Tuesday. He looked at Ouma in confusion.

 

“Oh. W-we missed a-about t-two to th-three weeks of sch-school, for the g-game.” Ouma replied, taking a bite of food. “Y-yeah….since  _ D-Danganronpa _ is so popular, we g-got excused a...absences, b-but now that i-its over, we need to go back. I suppose y-you could take the r-rest of the we-week off, but I wouldn’t.” Ouma said shaking his head before glancing behind Shuichi, to which the Detective followed his gaze. He was staring at a door, probably the bedroom of the complex. 

 

Ouma allowed Shuichi to finish a few more forkfuls of curry while he practically swallowed the rest of his own, already throwing his fork into the sink and throwing the left over packaging away. He downed the rest of his  _ Panta  _ at a rate that left Shuichi baffled as he gestured for the Detective to follow him. Swallowing, he continued, “Before t-that, I n-need to s-show you, um….” Ouma stood up straight and headed towards the bedroom door. 

 

It was dark, the window blinds were down, preventing any light from coming in and for the most part, Shuichi was left in suspense at what horrors his previous self might’ve kept in his room. Going off context clues and that damned audition tape, Shuichi still didn’t know what to think of himself. Ouma flipped on the lights and Shuichi was greeted with a cluttered mess of a room. The bed, itself, was made but trinkets and  _ Danganronpa _ figurines and toys were scattered onto the floor. Seasons one to fifty two, and everything in between, were neatly lined on the many shelves surrounding the rooms. Any walls without shelves had large posters of various characters from  _ Danganronpa  _ tacked to them with either tape or monokuma themed thumbtacks.

 

Shuichi flinched and staggered back. Ouma watched his reaction carefully, eyes not wavering from the taller boy whilst Shuichi looked on uncomfortably. He eventually tore his gaze away and walked further into the room.

 

The shorter boy pointed to a closet that Shuichi almost over looked in all the chaos. He rolled the door to the left, opening it up. Thankfully, most of Shuichi’s attire was just made up of his school uniform and other plain clothing. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if he were forced to wear a  _ Danganronpa _ shirt. He supposed it wasn’t his past self’s style or something, but he thanked whatever god was watching for it.

 

“T-this is your closet…,” he pointed to a messy desk and flipped opened the computer sitting there. “Y-your c-computer….Uh, the p-password i-is, well, f-fathom a guess.” Ouma said with a humorless laugh tacked to the end. 

 

That reminded Shuichi. He took the phone out of his pocket and presented it to Ouma, who took it in trembling hands. He paused a moment, taking the time to make a careful note of Shuichi’s clueless face before he made a sound and swiped in a “u” pattern into the screen allowing the phone to unlock.

 

He handed it back to Shuichi who was graced with a screen saver picture of something thankfully  _ not Danganronpa _ related. It was a selfie, of Shuichi and Ouma, sitting together, both in their school uniforms, at some kind of fast food restaurant. Fries and drinks were in the background, and if Shuichi guessed, it was taken around evening and outside the establishment. The Ouma in the picture was obviously the one taking the photo, as one of his arms stretched beyond the screen, but he looked happy, genuinely happy. No lies, no comically stretched grin and no bitter frowns, just a kid happy to be there. The Shuichi in the photo seemed to be happy too, a light smile on his lips, not minding the Ouma hanging off his neck. 

 

For the current Shuichi, it felt like opening a scrapbook of events that never happened. It was an invasion of privacy, as if he were peering into a life that didn't belong to him. Glancing at the other boy, he saw that Ouma had gone to cleaning Shuichi’s room, mumbling complaints to himself. Shuichi shook himself and went to snooping through his own device, putting a pin in those thoughts for later. Thankfully, whatever browser he was using prior remembered his accounts so he didn’t have to log in. His twitter, unsurprisingly, had favorited a bunch of  _ Danganronpa  _ fanart and images of characters and different variations of Monokuma he’d never seen before. What  _ did  _ surprize him, however, was there was no mention of being accepted into V3 or even an attempt at applying. 

 

He wondered why, before he remembered what Ouma had said.  _ He hadn’t told Ouma that he was signing up for  _ Danganronpa. He wondered why that was something he’d keep a secret. Judging from Ouma’s reaction from earlier in the day, he could guess, but it only made the past him look even worse. 

 

He searched through the photos on his phone, swiping past saved images of fanart before stumbling upon some quick pictures of Ouma. Similar to the one set to be his screensaver, there were some taken at outdoor food stops. Photos taken from Shuichi’s point of view of Ouma talking or quick freeze frames of the shorter boy in movement. Ouma seemed to be aware of these snapshots taking place, as in a few, he looked directly at the camera and would made a face, not unlike the Supreme Leader from the game. No matter the expression, there always seemed to be a smile on his face as he did so, even as he stuck out his tongue towards the camera.

 

Shuichi kept going through, past all the anime esque pictures and kept finding more real ones, outlining the type of friendship he and Ouma had. He noticed, however, that there were only a small handful of pictures with him in it and he’d usually have his hat tugged snugly over at least one of his eyes. A small sequence of photos captured a moment in time when Ouma had apparently stolen Shuichi’s phone, starting with Ouma noticing him taking pictures of him to blurred photos of Ouma eventually gaining custody of the device and snapping a clear shot of Shuichi’s surprised and bashful face.

 

He felt a smile tugging at his face, but he didn’t want to pity Ouma, the shorter boy deserved more than just his pity. He sighed and returned to the device’s home screen. He’d investigate it later. For the time, Ouma seemed to be preparing Shuichi for his own departure. That made sense and he didn’t want to keep the shorter boy for longer than needed.

 

When Ouma was done tidying up the place, it looking much better but there still being piles of junk here and there, he brushed himself off and tapped his hand against his leg, as if he were trying to find a way to break something to Shuichi very carefully.

 

“I-it’s late. I’m going to g-go home. Uh, I-I’ll check by h-here t-tomorrow.” Ouma’s voice died out as he rubbed his arm. “...W-what you did w-was pretty s-shitty. But d-don’t worry about it now….We’ll— talk a-about it later, okay?” Shuichi started to walk over to him but Ouma raised his hand to stop him. “Just...s-see you tomorrow.” He said, before disappearing out the hall. Shuichi followed and watched him embark, closing the door behind him with a single glance back.

 

Shuichi felt small and alone in an apartment he’d never been in before, filled with foreign objects that made his stomach ache. He walked over to the front door, opening it and peeking out, watching Ouma’s purple figure already on the sidewalk and moving towards the train station. He tore his eyes away and quietly shut the door, locking it before slumping down against it. He wondered how Yumeno was doing, if she was better off or not. The group chat that the nurse and other lady had told him about didn’t appear to be up and running just yet, so he couldn’t talk to her just yet.

 

He checked his phone contacts, finding a few names he didn’t recognize. His parent’s phone numbers were stashed away, but looking through his call history, they hadn’t spoken in weeks. Ouma’s number was found easily enough, under the tag ‘Kokichi~!!!’ and apparently they had spoken frequently from the looks of it. Shuichi was hesitant to look through any text messages just yet, and resigned to finishing his ‘dinner’ before snooping too much. He found that he didn’t want to eat, but his tired body growled at him.

 

Shuichi sat for a while longer, mind wandering. A few moments later, he got up and threw away the rest of his food. He decided he wasn’t hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hazy talks::
> 
> I've got my own hc for both pregame kokichi and shuichi, as well as their dynamic. ~~after this story reaches it's end, I'm going to post a prequel I've been working on, from kokichi's pov ;)~~


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Shuichi finally brushes his goddamn hair.

Logging into his computer was harder than he’d thought. Ouma had told him to “fathom a guess” but that was apparently harder said than done. After typing in the obvious, Shuichi was met with _password incorrect_ . He stood in front of the device, mind blank, as he wasn’t sure what else to try. He guessed that if his password _had_ been that predictable, there’d be no point in having one at all.  

 

He hesitated. He wasn’t even sure where to start guessing. The former Detective glanced back at the shelves of merchandise that lined his room and supposed that the answer might be on one of those DVDs, but there was no way he would be able to skim through 52 seasons for all the keywords that had the possibility of being his password. 

 

Well, whatever, Shuichi decided that he wasn't going to spend the whole night trying to break into his computer. He was exhausted, it was late, and he apparently had to go to school tomorrow. His whole reality had been shattered and he still had the vivid memories of dead friends fresh in his mind. He needed sleep. Maybe he’d be able to sort everything out after getting some rest.

 

He wandered around the small apartment until he found the bathroom, it wasn’t too hard to find, but Shuichi’s legs were still yelling at him with each step. He flipped on the light and peered into the mirror.

 

He looked like shit. 

 

Messy dark locks stuck up and out at every angle, not quite to the degree of Ouma’s, but in a way that made it look like he’d neglected his appearance, which most likely was the case. He ran a hand through his hair and found it a tangled nest, which he blamed solely on his hat. His cowlick...thing was the only thing seemingly untouched as it retained it’s mostly straight flow. Dark circles hung under his eyes and he saw that he looked a few shades paler than he was ingame.

 

He reached to turn on the tap and splashed his face, sighing in relief at the feeling of cleaning off the tears and sweat and whatever else from earlier. He wiped off the water with a surprisingly normal hand towel and blinked a few times. He still looked pasty, but it certainly felt better. But that left his hair and the rest of his exhausted form still a mess. He should probably just take a shower. 

 

He prepared a change of clothes from his closet and some towels he found stashed away, setting them down. He got washed up, nearly melting with the warm water as it felt good on his sore self. He lathered shampoo into his hair, managing to untangle some of it in the process. He found that he did, in fact, retain a bruise from earlier, as well as a few other scrapes and small blemishes that he had no memory off. He tried not to think about it as he washed all the grime out of his hair. Overall, it made him feel better.

 

After drying off, Shuichi slipped into a loose t-shirt and a pair of sleep pants. He attempted to dry his hair completely, but it still managed to retain it’s dampness. He eventually gave up and began searching for a hairbrush. Upon finding one hidden in a drawer, Shuichi went to work trying to smooth out the rest of his locks. He wanted to look presentable. To whom? He didn’t know. He just needed to look...he didn’t know, familiar? He wanted to be able to recognize himself. 

 

Looking into the mirror again, Shuichi felt satisfied. He looked the same, but more confident, maybe, and definitely less like he’d been hungover.

 

When he was done with everything, including putting all his(?) belongings away neatly and brushing his teeth, the usual, standard stuff, Shuichi returned to his bedroom, flipped off the light and practically collapsed onto his bed. He closed his eyes, grimacing slightly as his damp hair spread to his pillow. It was fine, he guessed. He was just about to surrender to sleep when he saw a light through his closed eyes. Cracking them open he found that he had forgotten to turn his computer off all the way. 

 

That strange detective itch in his mind started back up again and tried to cover his eyes and ignore it, his body was too tired and strangely comfortable that he didn’t want to get up. But still his brain wouldn’t shut up. Sighing and realizing he wasn’t going to get much sleep without a least a bit more closure on the situation, he slowly rolled out of his position walked over to the desk.

 

Ouma implied his computer password would be something he could guess, which meant that Shuichi would be able to find it on his own. That, and Ouma knew the password anyways. _Huh_. He took out his phone and unlocked it. Shuichi could always text Ouma and ask directly, but seeing as how it was past midnight already, he was sure the shorter boy was already asleep. Perhaps he’d leave the other a message for the morning, or would that make him seem clingy and dependent? Before thinking, he tapped the messages app and went to Ouma’s name, which wasn’t hard to find at all.

 

He was just about to send his question when the previous messages shared between the two boys caught his eyes. He quickly darted his gaze away and squeezed his eyes shut. He still took this as an invasion of privacy. He wasn’t the same Shuichi that Ouma knew, and he still felt that it wasn’t right. But eventually he relented after curiosity got the better of him. He slowly opened his eyes, pressed send before his inhibitions could stop him and took a peek.

 

The last text was one that Ouma had sent him a few days ago. A string of short messages informing Shuichi that he was going to be waiting in the lobby and little updates to his situation which didn’t change much while the rest of the game played out. Shuichi smiled slightly and scrolled up to catch a glimpse of how the two used to interact.

 

Ouma’s messages from the _Danganronpa_ lobby appeared to be the most recent contact between the two boys. The earliest texts before that were sent a little under a month ago it seemed. Makes sense, they were in _Danganronpa_ for about three weeks or so. It was a single angry face of which Shuichi had no idea and worried about the context. He scrolled up a ways and found the problem.

 

He….

 

It….

 

It seemed that Ouma and him had gotten into an argument a week before V3 had started.

 

Guilt gnawed at him with every word that met his eye but he read on anyways. Ouma had confronted him about signing up for _Danganronpa_ and getting in without informing him first. Shuichi had apparently taken a defensive stance on it while it was clear Ouma wasn’t having any of it. Shuichi could feel the passive aggression and venom dripping off of every word the shorter boy sent. Shuichi wasn’t familiar with the relationship the two of them had other than a vague friendship so he wasn’t sure if anything that was sent was below the belt or not but it seemed obvious this sort of thing wasn’t common between the two of them.

 

 

 

[Hey dick]

[I’m mad at you]

[Why?]

 

[I saw the letter]

[Why didn't you tell me]

[You dug through my mail?]

[What letter??]

 

[No, you left it out in the open]

[You got accepted into danganrona?]

[You auditioned and didn’t tell me]

[You got in and didn’t tell me]

[When were you going to tell me?]

[i thought you didnt care about the show]

[That doesn’t matter you should’ve told me anyways]

[why are you so upset]

[Because this means that youre going to be gone]

[I don’t see how two weeks is that bad]

[One season ran on for two months]

[It //matters// because youre basically leaving me alone for god knows how long]

[and you wernt even going to tell me]

[Why would you keep this from me?]

[do you even care]

[You don’t like Danganronpa so I didn’t think you’d be interested]

[Were you just planning on disappearing and leaving me to figure it out?]

[I was going to tell you eventually]

[Liar]

[Danganronpa is really popular, word wouldve gone around]

[Wooowwww]

[I thought you’d like to be surprised]

[I don’t want to watch you get killed, fake or not]

[I knew you wouldn’t be happy for me]

[I’ve wanted this for so long]

[Once again you chose this goddamn show over me]

[Whats that supposed to mean]

[I’m not choosing between anything]

[Apparently you’d rather be on television than spend time with me]

[We hang out all the time]

[I really don’t see the problem]

[You’re leaving me all alone]

[Don’t you have friends your school??]

[No, don’t change the subject]

[I’m not]

[I’m just saying you wont be completely alone]

[that doesnt count stop it]

[they’re not really my friends anyway]

[you know what i mean]

[ok so?]

[I hate liars]

[you know that]

[why would you think this is ok]

[If I told you nothing would’ve changed]

[I didn’t want to have this argument with you]

[so keeping secrets is better]

[Thats not fair]

[I can’t win here]

[It’s lose/lose]

[right]

[because those were the only two options you could’ve chosen]

[I don’t know why its such a big deal]

[you dont have to get mad]

[Let me have this]

[look, I’m sorry]

[I’ll make it up to you after, I promise]

[I won’t keep secrets anymore]

[I’m sorry,,]

[Kokichi?]

[ >:( ]

 

 

 

Shuichi cringed. He read through the exchange once. Then twice, just to be sure he was reading it correctly. Ouma did have a right to be mad. If Shuichi had been planning to disappear without saying a word to him only for the reveal of where he went to be presented to the shorter boy on international television, he could definitely understand. He felt bad, shame lighting his mind on fire. He was kind of a dick. He wondered why Ouma even stuck around in the first place.

 

But there was something that pegged Shuichi as strange. Well, he just thought it seemed a bit weird that Ouma didn’t tell Shuichi that he had signed up for _Danganronpa_ too.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve given up on trying to keep a 4000 word count per chapter haha


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, didn't Ouma say Shuichi had school? Dude, that sucks.

Shuichi slowly stirred, moving only to freeze as sore limbs seized him. Ah, right. He slowly shifted into an upright position and surveyed the room again. Light poured in through the window blinds causing him to blink the sleep out of his eyes. He was resting on something that was cutting into his side. Rolling over ever so slightly he picked up his phone and checked the time. 7:34. He considered that a successful sleep, for the most part. Less than eight hours but it was still fairly decent.

 

Something else of note was that he had gotten a message from Ouma late at night. He must’ve fallen asleep before he could read it. It seemed Ouma had been up after all. He still wasn’t quite sure what to make of the text, however. In reply to his

 

[I can’t seem to get into my computer, could you send the password or a nudge in the right direction or something, please?]

 

Ouma had sent

 

[s1 e12 02:03]

 

Of course the other wasn’t going to give him a straight answer. Ingame, the Supreme Leader wasn’t keen on giving away anything other than hints. Shuichi supposed the obvious, whatever the answer was, it was hidden away in the first season, episode twelve of  _ Danganronpa _ . The timestamp did imply it was early on in the episode, so Shuichi decided to give it a try. 

 

He arose from his bed and groggily scanned the unfamiliar shelves once more. He began his search in the top left corner, as it seemed like the CDs and DVDs were neatly organized. Shuichi did happen to stumble on a blank for a while as there were apparently five versions of Danganronpa 1. Two were of a computer game, one in Japanese and one in English. Then a limited edition version of the game with an apparent school mode. Then two DVDs of Danganronpa: The Animated Series, also in those two languages. He took the simplest one, the Japanese anime, and slowly made his way out into his living room space.

 

The Detective was supposedly good at solving mysteries and riddles and the like. However, Shuichi couldn’t believe that he was struggling to figure out how to work his own DVD player. There were three remotes, and he had no idea which was for what. He had gotten the DVD into the player just fine, but getting it to actually play was a struggle. So far what he had managed to do was get the television working, the screen set to the day’s news, however the sound coming from the speakers was of some advertisements for new animes. He had no idea how he managed to screw this up so badly. It didn’t help that the remotes looked vaguely the same, and pressing random buttons was not the solution he was looking for.

 

Shuichi gave up eventually and found a way to mute the sound altogether. He wasn’t about to ask Ouma for a clearer answer, he’d figure it out eventually, but for now he wanted to get something for breakfast.

 

Something important buzzed at the front of his mind, but he couldn’t quite place it. Well, maybe he would remember if he got some food in his stomach. He rummaged through his own cabinets and stacked what he found on the counter. So far, all it seemed he had was an assortment of instant meals ranging from ramen to curry to noodle soup, a very plain cereal, low sodium chips, a fridge stocked with nothing but  _ Panta _ and plastic waters, and an expired liter of milk.  _ How did he live like this? _

 

His past self’s eating habits would have to go, directly after all that  _ Danganronpa  _ merchandise.

 

He emptied the milk, disposing it down the toilet before rinsing out the carton and tossing it in what he hoped was a recycling bin. He returned the soft drinks back into his fridge and set his stack of instant food to the side. He was thankful for the quick meal last night but really didn’t want to have that much sodium at the moment, which left him with dry cereal. Shuichi shrugged, it would do. He poured himself a bowl of boring shapes and dug around until he found a spoon. Sure, there was no milk, but he didn’t feel like eating handfuls out of the box, he wasn’t that pitiful yet.

 

He crunched down and frowned at the bland taste. Perhaps this is what animal kibble tasted like to pets? Well, it was the best he had so he would deal with it. He took his dry bowl over to the couch and fiddled with the remotes once again. As expected he yielded no results except possibly screwing up whatever arrangement was already set in place. Something had to be wrong with the way the television and DVD player was set up, because Shuichi was sure he wasn’t  _ this _ bad at using technology. Or maybe he was always bad with it.

 

Grumpily, he sat down and ate his breakfast on the couch in defeat, every bite mocking him in a way. He took a deep breath and tried to live in the moment. No need to worry about every little thing right now, that’s what had his head in knots last night. He just need to take things slow and figure his problems out at his own rate. 

 

Eventually he finished his meal and made his way back to the kitchen area, dumping his fairly clean bowl in the sink out of habit. He had almost forgotten the dishes from the other night, he supposed that he might as well clean everything up. And once everything was put away and done, Shuichi wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He took a water from the fridge and poured it into a glass with ice. He was feeling tired. He took a few sips of his drink and decided to try cracking his computer password again. He’d probably end up looking up some  _ Danganronpa _ trivia on his phone. Who knows, maybe someone had uploaded the episode for free online.

 

He set his glass down and began to return to his room when

 

“It’s time to go.” 

 

Ouma’s voice filled the air. Shuichi tripped, catching himself only on his kitchen counter, as his head snapped back, eyes falling on the former Supreme Leader. That same (or maybe a new?) fat bandage was still stuck to his cheek, and his fingers were covered in colored band-aids. A school bag hung from his shoulder and his other hand was tucked behind his back. His expression was blank, like usual, though he seemed to be impatient, as his foot tapped on the hardwood floor in quick succession.

 

“G-gah!” Shuichi managed in surprise, but he couldn’t quite put words together. Shuichi was left speechless, confused, definitely baffled, and a bit frightened at Ouma’s sudden and silent appearance. “How did you get in, I-I locked…?” Noting his distress, Ouma groaned and rolled his eyes.

 

“I have a key.” He said slowly and carefully in a flat tone dripping with sarcasm. He pulled his other hand out of hiding and held a singular lock pick in front of the taller boy. Shuichi’s eyes went wide in surprise and he walked over to Ouma to examine it. He recognized the grooves immediately, there was no mistaking the object.

 

“You really can pick locks.” Shuichi stupidly said aloud, as if he’d just had an epiphany.  _ It seemed like Shirogane had a lot more foundation to use than he had first thought _ . Ouma frowned at the remark, but didn’t say anything about it. His attention was instead directed towards Shuichi’s attire.

 

“T-thats all you’re w-wearing?” He asked, wincing slightly. “W-we’re already l-late. Quick! C-change!” Ouma ordered, turning Shuichi around and shoving him towards his bedroom door. Shuichi did was he was told and quickly threw on his uniform and jacket. Ouma went and got the rest, automatically throwing a tie around Shuichi’s neck and expertly assembling the knot or whatever to make it look neat. Shuichi blushed upon skin contact, but Ouma wasn’t bothered in the slightest. It was strange to think that Ouma had done this before too.

 

As a final touch, the shorter boy adjusted Shuichi’s blue tinted hair and jumped to tuck Shuichi’s hat onto his head, covering most of his face with the cap’s bill. Before Shuichi could thank him or even react, Ouma was already dashing across the room and digging up a black school bag from under some fallen  _ Danganronpa _ merch. He lasso’d it’s strap over Shuichi’s head, so it would sit diagonally across his chest, the assortment of  _ Danganronpa _ charms hooked to it jingling with every movement. Satisfied, a faint smile became visible on the shorter boy, but it was short lived as he checked his phone.

 

“F-fuck, we’re going to m-miss our train. C-c’mon!” The shorter boy grabbed his wrist and guided him out the door, nabbing the keys from his desk before they went so he could lock the door behind them. Shuichi was surprised at Ouma’s determination but followed along, trying to keep up with his quick pace. He held tight to his cap as they swiftly ran through pedestrians and crosswalks. Ouma’s grip on his wrist was firm and comforting at this point in time. The last thing Shuichi needed was to get lost while the smaller boy was in this much of a hurry.

 

They bolted down into the train station, which was packed with people with places to be. Ouma said something but his voice was drowned out by the noise of the crowd. He seemed to assume that Shuichi had heard him because at that moment, he let go and wormed his way into the mob, disappearing into the shifting mess. Shuichi felt his heart stop for a moment as panic set in. He tried to calm himself by holding his satchel strap tight. He backed up, realizing he needed air or space or something. It was better than being the center of attention but still, Shuichi was not good in unfamiliar crowds. He tripped backwards into a full bench of people, and after his quiet apology went unheard, swallowed up by the sound of a train departing, he found himself sitting against the metal seat, sat on the concrete with his legs tucked in. 

 

He looked around, trying to find the purple haired boy in a crowd. Eventually, two train tickets were then thrust into his view and he looked up to find Ouma smiling ever so slightly. He helped Shuichi up and then proceeded to herd him, like a sheep, into a coming train. The two were forced to stand, due to how full the vehicle was, but Ouma had returned to holding onto Shuichi so there was no fear of being lost and separated for the time being.

 

“A-actually, I-I’m kinda glad w-were late. I-i-it just m-means w-we won't r-run into anybody.” The smaller boy said, voice barely audible. Shuichi wondered what the undertones of that statement meant. He couldn’t help but worry. He felt bad for being such a pessimist but his mind always went to the worst possible result. Ouma turned away from him in favor of checking his phone. Shuichi still wasn’t sure what he was doing on there. As he recalled from his texting history with the shorter boy, Ouma didn’t have any one else he considered a friend. Unless he had lied, which Shuichi wasn’t sure if that would be in character or not.

 

Several heads did turn their way during the train ride. A few pictures were taken by a few late school girls who weren’t very subtle in their attempts to take secret snapshots of the duo. Shuichi shifted uncomfortably which caused Ouma to tug him a closer. Shuichi just about yelped,  _ loudly _ , but Ouma wasn’t paying attention. Shuichi was able to swipe a glance at what Ouma was looking at, however. It looked like he was...streaming the ending of the fourth trial..?The Detective frowned, confused. Why would Ouma…? Some things about the shorter boy just weren’t lining up for him to understand. Realizing his mind was buzzing, Shuichi shook his head and pushed all the growing theories and assumptions back down into his mind. Now was not the time to unravel any of that. He did want to talk with Ouma, but he assumed that now, on a crowded train on their way to high school was  _ not _ the time. 

 

Luckily, the train ride wasn’t three hours long this time. After about twenty five minutes or so, the train pulled into a station and Ouma suddenly yanked Shuichi by his tie and hurriedly tried to drag him out. Shuichi complied, chasing after Ouma once the purple haired boy had slipped out through the doors. He was fast, already waiting at the stairs to the surface. He seemed more patient today, and Shuichi was, of course, thankful for that. Ouma grabbed his wrist again as they departed for the high school. By this time, the sidewalk was mostly clear of other people, and Ouma seemed to have given up on trying to salvage time. They were already late, right? It couldn’t get much worse.

 

Shuichi was still fairly antsy, he didn’t like the idea of being tardy or late for anything, but it wasn’t so bad. Ouma was glancing back at him more frequently now, despite already holding his hand. He kind of felt like a toddler, being walked by an adult so he wouldn’t lose his way, but he was in no position to argue. Ouma guided him down a ways until he saw the high school come into view. It was fenced off from the rest of the world with the entrance still open. Ouma brought him to the front before stopping, instantly letting go of Shuichi’s hand. A few other late students hurried past them inside, glancing back at the two before vanishing inside.

 

“O-okay, we’re here. I-I’ll pick y-you up a-after s-school sometime. Uh, a-about four o’clock. Um.”

 

Shuichi felt nervous peering into the building. It was a standard private high school or something akin to that. Shuichi worried. He didn’t even know what room he was supposed to go to or where he was supposed to be. He turned to Ouma for help but the former Supreme Leader was already leaving.

 

“O-Ouma-kun! Wait! You can’t just leave!” He shouted waving the other down. Ouma gave him an apologetic look but didn’t stop.

 

“I-I’ll text you y-your s-schedule and home room. W-we can talk l-later, b-but I h-have to go!” He frowned and shrugged. “B-besides, I-I’m not a-allowed in there.” Ouma glanced at the building then turned on his heel and skittered away, leaving Shuichi by himself to figure this out. Oh. Okay. A moment passed and Shuichi found his feet glued to the pavement. Then his phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and sighed, as promised his schedule. Since he missed the first class, he’d have to shoot for the rest of the second. His home room seemed to be on the second floor. Shuichi stalled for a moment longer before he began to embark into the school. 

 

He could do this. This time, it was a regular high school. No murderous teddy bears, no motives, no school killing. Just. High school. Somehow, he still felt nervous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now watch in amazement as my writing style is taken out back and shot.  
> Next chapter will be what you expect.
> 
> Bare with me, I think I can—


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, the author nearly has an aneurysm trying to write this chapter, and Shuichi’s day isn’t faring any better.

Shuichi entered the building. His heart was pounding and he had a good idea why. He was just thrust into another situation, on his own, and it happened to be a high school. He wasn’t exactly comfortable around those just yet.

 

He slid the door open to the classroom that Ouma had said was the period he was supposed to be in at the moment. He supposed coming in late was better than not arriving at all, but he still felt nervous, and rightfully so as all eyes were on him as soon as he stepped foot into the room. The teacher even halted their lesson as everyone turned around to face him, all wearing a similar amused or blank expression that made Shuichi’s skin crawl.

 

“Ah, Saihara-san, you made it. Hope you enjoyed your...vacation, but please take your seat so that we may continue class.” The teacher said, lightly tapping their foot. Shuichi apologetically bowed his head and stumbled into the classroom.

 

It wasn’t hard to spot which desk was presumably his, there was only _one_ empty desk in the whole class, which either made him lucky for not having to pick and guess or unlucky as he was the only person who was late today. Even though he had no idea who anyone else was in this entire school, he still felt embarrassed for standing out so much. He quietly walked to his seat and sat down, the teacher slowly returning back to their work until their attention was completely back at their task of writing down questions about a book that Shuichi hadn’t read. He really was out of place here.

 

A girl to his right, with brown twin pigtails leaned over and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. The motion surprised him somewhat and he jolted slightly, causing her to quietly giggle. She was sporting a hairstyle eerily similar to that of Junko Enoshima and Shuichi had to repeatedly tell himself that that was absolutely no cause for alarm or concern, even though it made his stomach do flips and twists while a voice in his head repeatedly told him that it was a red flag.

 

As he looked around at his fellow classmates, he could see _Danganronpa_ merchandise littered around the whole room. Little pins and charms decorated a student’s uniform or someone had a sticker on their notebook. Shuichi felt his mouth go dry for a moment as he realized the girl with pigtails had a 2D charm of himself. He eyed it carefully before tipping his hat down out of habit. Her smile resembled a familiar sneer, something he all but wanted to forget.

 

“So,” she whispered over to him, “how was the game? I’m sure you were _soooo_ upset to come back to reality, right?” He stiffened in his chair for a moment, before pressing his lips into a firm line. He didn’t feel like dignifying the question with a reply, so instead he nervously sat, eyes straight ahead, in an attempt to ignore her.

 

“Oh, I’m sure he loved _every moment of it_. But what ever happened to commiting the greatest murder ever? You never shut up about how you were going to do that. And you didn’t even deliver.” Someone behind him joined in. Shuichi felt his face go red with both embarrassment and irritation. The two joined in quiet snickering.

 

“Haha yeah, you wanted to be the blackened but you ended up winning afterall. Get cold feet or something?” Shuichi didn’t even have notes in front of him to help the illusion that he was pretending to do work or pay attention. The students all around him were conversing now, talking about him whilst he was right there in the middle, listening. He frowned and bit his lip to hold back anything he might regret later. It didn’t seem to matter if he told them the truth, that he wasn’t the same person that they knew, they seemed to have come to the conclusion that he was himself but with his memories of the game as well. He didn’t feel inclined to correct them, however, that would probably make the questions worse. He could feel eyes burning into him from behind and he only felt shivers go up his spine as he heard his name being dropped by various voices scattered all around. All the while, he was left not knowing what he should be doing. The teacher was writing stuff down, should he be paying attention? Ouma left no instructions for what to do for when he had actually arrived to his class and he was sure the other wouldn’t reply to any text of his as he’d be in class too.

 

Truely, Shuichi was left to figure this puzzle out on his own, and it should’ve been easy for him. Just open his bag and take out what looked to be notes and just start writing down what he deemed important, but the students around him and their constant noise and gossip was messing with his head. He heard Akamatsu’s name whispered between some kids in the back and he felt a chill run down his spine. He wasn’t going to survive the rest of the day, _not like this_. All the while his teacher continued on, teaching a lesson that no one was paying attention too.

 

“Hey, so did you break up with your boyfriend yet?” a girl with short blonde hair asked, turning around in her chair to face him. “I really didn’t ship you together so it’d be really great if you did.” She said rather bluntly. It was clear she was not one to really be considerate. And before Shuichi could even think about telling her that such a personal and, quite rude really, question was not something he’d answer, he felt his face heat up and the startled word “ _b-boyfriend_?” escaped his lips.

 

No, that couldn’t have been his and Ouma’s relationship. Not with how the other acted towards him. It just didn’t make a lick of sense. Then again, as far as he’d known him, real or not, Ouma almost never made any sense. But he shook those thoughts away and tried to bury his face in his arms.

 

“Really thought,” the girl continued with a laugh, not reading Shuichi’s clear uncomfort (or maybe this was how he normally was? Ah, he didn’t know) “I think you and Akamatsu were so cute together! Did you decide to keep in touch? I think she’d be a much better fit for you than that little rat.” Shuichi’s heart sank further at her name and he felt his insides tangle at the girl’s words, but, as much as he wished they would just... _shut up_ , the class continued their unsubtle whispers.

 

“Oh!” A kid practically shouted out from the front of the room. “If you kept in touch could you hook me up with Angie? I thought she was real cute!”

 

“No way!” Another said. “Harukawa-san was a way better best girl!”

 

“Oh yeah, Saihara-kun, you guys were like best friends. Did you stay that way after the game ended? I bet haha!” Shuichi just wanted to fade away, just phase out of the classroom and through the floor. No one seemed to mind that he was trying to hide away from them and was refusing to answer their questions. _The outside world truly was crazy for this show._

 

He felt a tap on his shoulder and flinched without meaning to. The boy who sat beside him looked at him with a bit of concern, the first one out of this whole crazy lot. “What’s the matter?” he asked, and for once Shuichi felt a bit of relief. Maybe there was one normal person after all.

 

“A-ah. Oh nothing,” he lied. As much as he was grateful that _someone_ was paying attention, he still didn’t want to explain his situation for fear of making it oh so much worse. The kid frowned, not really believing him before cocking a small grin.

 

“Oh, I get it. You’re bummed to be back, right? Ahaha, I would be too if I got to be in the game.” Shuichi’s relief dissipated ever so slightly, but it was closer to any piece of consideration he’d get today so he’d accept it.

 

“Y-yeah….T-totally….” He managed to spit out in hopes it’d end the conversation and make him not seem that rude to the only person who at least semi-cared. The kid smiled and turned away, satisfied and Shuichi slumped over his desk to discreetly take his phone out and reexamine the list of classes Ouma said he had. Unfortunately, he still had a while left, even though he had arrived late. And to be perfectly honest, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

 

At least when Ouma or Iruma were being rude assholes, he could tell there was a bit of casual familiarity in those insults. But now, it was like strangers--no it _was_ strangers--all making and pulling fun of his friends who couldn’t defend themselves and who he couldn’t defend without fueling their crazed fire. It _hurt_.

 

And it made him _mad_. 

 

Shuichi was genuinely frustrated that these people really did treat his friends like intangible objects. Even if they were weaved together by Shirogane’s hand, from what he’d put together from himself and Ouma in the brief time they’d spent, he could already tell that the characters from the game weren’t entirely made up from scratch.

 

Bit and pieces of the Ouma he knew shown through now and again. Even pieces of himself and his past didn’t appear to have been created out of nothing. So it still just irritated him that these people, his classmates, would show no restraint or compassion for what he’d just gone through. But he wouldn’t make a scene of it. He’d just weather through the day. There was no one he could really relate to. No one except maybe Yumeno. He wondered how she was doing, probably faring no better. _This_ was the outside world and all they had to go home to, there really was no escape from people like this or anything. No place outside to break out to, no where else to go.

 

He felt something tighten in his chest, like a spring wound up too tight. The revelation hurt, to say the least and he just tried to zone the cascading laughter out of his head as jokes about his dead friends passed.

 

Eventually, it was time for gym.

 

Shuichi packed his scarce things and shoved them into his bag as he quickly moved out of the classroom before anyone could catch up and trap him into an in depth conversation about the game he had just played. He paid no mind the looks of eager and drooping fans who tried to call his attention over to them or to the insults of people who had hoped they could watch him die on their television screens. He simply just tucked his eyes down to his feet, glancing up only to see where he was going. He never felt so thankful to be wearing his hat. 

 

It seemed like an acceptable excuse to ignore the rising crowds yelling his name across the hall. He hated being forced into the limelight like this. Luckily, Shuichi quickly found a bathroom stall to hide in. He locked the stall and sat down on the toilet lid, bringing his feet up so no one could tell _he_ was there. It took a few moments before he could collect his thoughts. All of this was getting to him. If this was to be his life from here on, he wasn’t sure how he’d get through it. One day at a time, he supposed.

 

Taking a moment or so more, he eventually found the reserve to chance into the gym clothing he had apparently packed before checking where he was supposed to go. Outside, _right_. Shirogane had given him memories of being able to meet the physical requirements it would take to be a detective. Shuichi wasn’t sure he was in peak shape to do such in real life but seeing how easily Ouma could sneak and maneuver without any apparently made up memories, he supposed there was no use in trying. It would be really great if his nightly training sessions with Momota had paid off, but he’d just have to actually test it out.

 

He met with other fellow classmates out onto an outdoor track. The coach began his introduction to the exercise, basically running around the track, before his eyes landed on Shuichi and a twisted grin cracked on his lips.

 

“Ah! Saihara-san! You bothered to show up! Don’t think I didn’t see you this season. Apparently you’ve been holding out on us. I don’t want to hear any more excuses about how you can’t do pushups. Got it?” Shuichi felt his face blaze from the attention, as now _everyone’s_ eyes were back on him. He gulped, his mouth extremely dry and they hadn’t even started yet. The coach waited for an answer as a long silence stretched over them. Oh.

 

“Y-yes sir!” Shuichi choked out to which he got a hearty laugh in reply. The coach explained the rest and had the class begin. 

 

The students began jogging and Shuichi started slowly, trying to keep an even pace. He knew that in these types of runs you needed to preserve your energy and stamina. Breaking into a dead sprint would surely leave you winded by the end, even though a consistent jog could be hard the first couple times. And boy did it ever feel difficult. There was a clear difference between knowing how motion should work to actually putting oneself to action. Shuichi felt the difficulty right away. 

 

It truly was clear that he had never worked out before in his life. But he was determined and pushed himself to continue. The others performing the same task watched in awe or amusement as he kept going. He was sure his face was red and he could tell his form was off somewhat. The boys behind him laughed and whistled and shouted phrases at him.

 

 “ _Atta boy!”_

 

“ _Wow! I didn’t even know you_ could _run a lap.”_

 

“ _Pfftt, maybe I would’ve auditioned for Danganronpa if I knew it could work miracles.”_

 

He just tried to block them out of his mind. They didn’t know. They couldn’t possibly know what he was living through at the moment so anything they said shouldn’t affect him any. Except it affected him a lot.

 

The laps were just a warm up, it seemed. Next was on to some other activities. They moved to an indoor part of the gym to complete some warm ups and sit ups. Now this was something Shuichi felt alright trying. It hadn't been _too_ hard, persay, the first time he began training with Momota and doing push ups then. It was somewhat difficult but do-able. In the condition he was in now, he was sure he would have trouble doing them but he held onto the same drive that pushed him before. 

It was partly the same reason he was determined to keep himself as he was rather than get his memories back. He wanted to be a better person. He didn’t want the lives of his friends, who had been so real to him, to have died in vain. He also didn’t want to fuel the fire that these _Danganronpa_ obsessed fans were craving. The last thing he wanted now was to become someone who supported these killing games. Like Shirogane had said, the real mastermind had been the fans watching the show.

 

Shuichi took to the push ups, heaving as his arms trembled trying to keep his body weight up. This was going to take some work, but he was okay with it. The laughter and proding from his classmates, and even his teacher at some points, didn’t cease, but he just tried closing his eyes and imaging Momota and Harwukawa there next to him to support him. It helped, even just a little, it helped.

 

After the rest of class had finished, Shuichi was exhausted. Sleeping in didn’t really help any and he knew that he would feel sore the next day. He wasn’t fast enough to escape the gym so easily this time but he didn’t wait around to try and attempt using the changing room. He, instead, ran across the whole school searching for another bathroom to occupy.

 

He had a class after that, and it was just a reprise of the morning, which just worsened his mood. Eventually his lunch break came and he nearly collapsed on his desk. He was tired. And hungry. Oh _that's right,_ he hadn’t packed himself anything to eat. Part of him wondered if that was a task Ouma usually did for him, but he smothered the thought. Speaking of, he wondered how the shorter boy was doing. He took out his phone and held it a few inches in front of his face. He really didn’t want anyone else to be snooping behind him and go into a spiel about his relationship with the Supreme Leader.

 

It seemed Ouma had texted him some time before because an away message was left in his texts. Just a simple

 

[how are you]

 

which had been left a little over an hour prior. Shuichi felt himself perk up at the fact that Ouma cared at least a little bit. It made him feel that much less alone. He decided to type back, wondering if Ouma was on a lunch break as well.

 

[stressed]

 

It was the truth, afterall. He didn’t feel like burdening the other with going into detail of his mental turmoil, but figured the shorter boy could probably figure it out from that. He watched as the little read icon came on screen and a moment later Ouma began typing. The three moving dots then vanished before starting up again and then disappearing just as quickly as they came. He guessed Ouma wasn’t sure how to respond to that. After some five minutes other eventually responded with a quick

 

[Oh]

 

And that was the end of that.

 

A few girls came over to Shuichi and ignored his attempts at pretending to be sleeping. They offered to share some of their lunches with him in exchange with getting Rantaro Amami’s number. A tempting offer, even if he didn’t, in fact, have contact with Amami. He had eaten nothing this morning except for some dry cereal so how could it not seem alluring. He declined, however, and the group had left him alone, annoyed and irritated at him. He watched them go as they cursed his name under their breath. Jerks.

 

Three more classes went by and Shuichi was left severely drained from it. He wasn’t able to pay attention to what he was supposed to be learning at all. He wasn’t even sure what classes he had even attended either. The teachers didn’t seem to care about the other students basically harassing him all day, he assumed it was normal or just something they had become desensitized to and he wasn’t about to try and bring it up already knowing it wouldn’t do anything. 

 

He had kids try to steal his hat as well as fellow students prodding him from behind with their pencils with fan questions about how _Team Danganronpa_ runs the game and how things are behind the scenes. Students wanted to know spoilers for the next season, which just the mention of made his stomach drop (,there was going to be another season?), while others wanted to know about his relationship with the other winners.

 

He never answered, he didn’t answer anyone. They weren’t respectful and didn’t deserve a reply from him. And often times he couldn’t give them one even if he wanted. But out of all of them, he always felt his hair bristle on end when Ouma’s name was mentioned. It was a bit strange to him. These kids knew more about his supposed relationship with the faux Supreme Leader than he did. It bothered him a little bit and he began tolerating comments about Ouma because it allowed him some outsider insight on the purple haired boy.

 

From what he gathered from comments like “is the little brat still following you around?” and “oh my god, I bet you really hate Ouma-kun so much now!” he could infer that, yes, he and Ouma had had a tight relationship before but nothing romantic. From all the “Ooohhh, aren’t you so pissed at your _boyfriend_?” it was always said in a mocking type of manner, and nothing really serious, which gave him a mental sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure he could deal with anything of that magnitude right now. 

 

Some of these kids blamed Ouma for trying to _end_ _Danganronpa_ , which confused him. From what the employees from _Team Danganronpa_ had told him whatever attempt Ouma might have made was very unsuccessful but some of them seemed to hate the Supreme Leader anyway. Which he wasn’t sure was better or worse than the fan girls around him who were asking excessive questions on how to win him over. The shorter boy’s character was either loved or hated and, because everyone seemed to assume that the players retained their ingame memories, Shuichi couldn’t help but worry for Ouma. Was he getting harassed as much as Shuichi was? Was it worse so?

 

He thought back to Ouma’s bandage covered figure. He hoped the shorter boy would be okay. But then again, for as much as everyone around him in this school claimed to have enjoyed the game no one was severely fanning over him, as himself. Just his experiences and those he might have met which was wildfly different from meeting strangers on the street. Maybe it was because they knew him, the old him that is, and knowing something like that can alter an experience for some people. Afterall, it would be really weird for someone if you knew to suddenly become a celebrity overnight because you _knew_ them and how they were. Must be the same for himself, he supposed.

 

But, yeah. Some people were big fans of Ouma but only as the Surpreme Leader. Shuichi found their questions about him intriguing, because a few of them were things he had been wondering as well, but for the most part he couldn’t relate. No, he did not know if Ouma was a top or bottom and _no, he would not ask._ He did not know if you could join Ouma’s organization or what the criteria for that would be. He also did not know if Ouma had a crush on Momota, though he would have assumed the Supreme Leader wouldn’t have one. Shuichi felt off about these types of questions as well. If he was being asked them, he was sure Ouma was too. And he had seen how Ouma really was, even from the brief period they had spent together. 

 

Unless the whole thing, from seeing him yesterday with tears in his eyes to this morning was all fake, Ouma really wasn’t a zealous, lying Supreme Leader who loved pranks and making other people feel uncomfortable. He also didn’t seem like the type to be blood thirsty or an _actual_ evil person at all. There were some similarities in the other’s mannerisms but personality wise there didn’t seem to be a large connection, unless he was missing something. He’d have to figure that out later.

 

The day dragged on and finally the bell rang. Students laughed to each other and got their own things and left. Some lingered to try and get him to talk but gave up and called him an asshole after he used his hat to cover his face and pretended not to see him. It kind of bothered him but not as much as someone he actually cared about thinking of him that way. After all, he still saw all these people as strangers. _Cruel_ , cruel strangers.

 

When he had mostly been left alone, he sighed and nearly collapsed onto his desk. He was tired. Today had been a _day._ He must’ve dozed off a little bit because when he woke up the lights were off, the door was cracked open but he was all by himself. His phone went off and that was what woke him. It buzzed in his hand and he looked to see another text from Ouma.

 

[here]

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! so I'm sorry this took so long. I know it's kind of a dumpster fire, this one and I'm real sorry!
> 
> I wrote myself into a corner with this I think, haha. I have this thing planned out and for this chapter I wrote "shuichi spends a day at school" and in my head I know how I want that to go but then there's the problem of actually writing it. 
> 
> for one, I don't really know how Japanese high schools work and I've been too busy to do any indebted studies about it. this is just a something I'm writing for fun so its not something I'd like to stress over, but here we are. I know a long while back some of you really nice commenters helped me out with understanding the basics of honorifics. I appreciate you! but also I think this chapter is pretty _ok_ -ish and I really don't want to go back to staring at this for two months so I won't be rewriting it even if new information becomes apparent to me. I'm really sorry!!
> 
> But yes! This is not discontinued, it never was. It's just slow goes as I find the time to write. But yeah. Thanks for sticking around! I'll try to reply to comments.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ~~hey also, prequel's out ;)~~


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